


Purgatory

by Xanateria



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Sanctuary (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Reality, Crossover, F/M, Fix-It, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 38,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xanateria/pseuds/Xanateria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Studying at Stanford, Sam Winchester meets Helen Magnus. The unlikely friendship between them changes both of their worlds, after Helen goes to her old friend Rupert Giles for help with a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purgatory

**Author's Note:**

> I know, the timelines don’t quite match. Fortunately, this is fiction, so we can all pretend present day is happening at the same time in each universe. Present day action takes place just after the series ends for Buffy, just after the beginning of the episode Kali pt II for Sanctuary, and Exile on Main St. for Supernatural. Be warned though, it goes seriously AR after that. Written for Crossover Big Bang on Livejournal. Special thanks to my beta reader datista, who went above and beyond any reasonable expectation in battling my tense shifts, comma abuses and repeated words. This is a much better story thanks to her input. Any remaining mistakes are solely my fault. Also, this story wouldn’t have seen the light of day if not for trinipedia, who was my personal cheerleader while I wrestled with the plot and last minute posting jitters.

_November 2002_

Stanford University Campus  
Roble Hall  
2:36 am

Blowing out a long breath, Sam tried to blink away the burning grit that seemed to have taken over his eyes. The later it got, the more he confirmed he was getting too old to be staying up all night, at least intentionally. Blinking led to rubbing his eyes, but it didn’t really seem to help much. Shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to loosen the knots that had taken up residence there, he forced his eyes back to his textbook. No one in their right mind needs to know this much about economics, he told himself. Well, no one but those writing their econ midterm at eight o’clock tomorrow morning, his conscience reminded him. Flicking his eyes to his flashcards, Sam tried to remind himself that he was good at taking tests. That didn’t really lower his stress level but high expectations were nothing new. The only difference was that he was putting these on himself, instead of having his dad demand the impossible. 

He’d just turned the page and regained his focus when the sound of several different people screaming drifted through his door. Sam gritted his teeth and ignored it, though it went against his reflexive urge to help. “Get a grip, Winchester,” he muttered. “You can’t go rushing to off to save everyone who gets into a fight on campus. It isn’t your job, anymore.” He might even have convinced himself, but his thoughts were interrupted by a scream that cut off as the lights in his room flickered and the temperature plummeted. Ignoring a scuffle was one thing, ignoring signs that could mean this was more than a petty dispute was quite another. “God dammit,” he cursed, reaching to unlock his lowest desk drawer so he could reach the gun it held. 

He really wished the monsters of the world would get the memo that he was out of the business. The supernatural had already intruded on his life twice since the beginning of the quarter, and it was getting old. Some of the sightings he let pass because they were minor, more mischief than anything. That was something he could never get his father to see: different didn’t always mean evil. His own experience since leaving home had proven that. Swallowing the old bitterness, he tucked the gun into his waistband and opened the door to find the source of the noise. 

Skin prickling with anticipation of a threat, he moved toward the stairwell at the end of the hall. As he opened the door, Sam all but tripped over a petite blonde girl whose eyes were wide with fright. She backed toward the corner at the first sight of him. “It’s okay,” Sam told her, flashing his most reassuring smile, twitching his shirt to make sure it was covering his gun. “I heard screaming. Just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

To her credit, the girl pulled it together enough to answer him, though she had to choke back tears to do it. “I’m fine, just shook, really. But there was some guy in some kind of insect costume. Thought it was funny to block my way and then herd me in here. He was making some kind of strange noise, or at least I think it was him. I figured it was safer to hide in here until I knew he was gone.” 

Still working to radiate his best harmless, nice guy vibe, Sam nodded, keeping any hint of unease off his face. Somehow, it didn’t seem likely that someone thought Halloween had come early this year. All his instincts were telling him that something was off. “I’m pretty sure he’s gone. You should be fine if you want to go back to your room. Do you want me to walk you?” He didn’t have the time to play bodyguard, but offering was the right thing to do. He was relieved when she shook her head, thanked him for his concern and quickly disappeared. 

Minutes later he slipped out the front door. The night seemed quiet at first, but after a moment he could hear odd clicking sounds coming from somewhere behind the building. Following the noises, he warily made his way through the open space. Usually the area near his building was deserted this time of night. It was landscaped to be more of a park, but was only popular during the day. It wasn’t empty. 

At first glance he might have thought it was, but further back, he saw movement. There were five people dressed all in black, in what he assumed was the height of commando style. Four of them were bigger, burly football types. The fifth was slightly smaller, and female, judging by the voice which was issuing low voiced commands to the others using an earpiece he could see a small LED light flashing on.

As he slowly drew closer, he could detect the movement of something else. There were a couple of streetlights scattered through the park, none particularly close to whatever it was. Even so, he could tell it wasn’t a person in a costume. It was emitting a high pitched whine no human throat could produce, that made his teeth itch and his head pound. Whatever it was, it was definitely taller and a hell of a lot skinnier, than the average human. Then there was the clicking from two wicked looking pincers that were longer than his arm. 

Whoever the men were, it was obvious they were professionals. Working together with a smooth precision that spoke of many hours of practice on previous hunts, they cornered the thing. Then they shot it with an oversized gun that fired some sort of bioluminescent liquid capsules he could see lined up in a chamber close to the grip instead of bullets. Only after the thing had toppled over to the grass and lay still for several long moments did they approach, removing some sort of custom-made ear protection pieces as they walked. 

Two men stayed back with their weapons still trained on the creature as the other two made sure it was actually incapacitated before gesturing to their teammates. The smallest one stood back and evaluated the actions of the other team members, and advised them to ready the thing for transport. The words confirmed his suspicion that the thing wasn’t dead, whatever it was. If the oversized bug had been squashed, it was likely they would be more concerned with disposal than transport.

Within minutes of the woman’s rather clipped orders, they had the monster bundled into an oversized sling that had been rigged to be carried by the four of the men. When the men had everything in order and were ready to leave the area, the mysterious woman spoke again. “Our guest here shouldn’t wake for at least six hours. However,” she continued, making eye contact with each team member, “I shall be very displeased if any of you fail to take precautions in case our information on the creature proves incorrect.”Though her voice was calm the underlying tone of authority had Sam straightening his shoulders before he caught himself. 

After she finished speaking, the men left, taking the monster with them. As they disappeared into the darkness, the woman turned around, walking towards him with a stride that wasted no movement but still managed to seem unhurried. Rather than showing any surprise at seeing him standing there, she seemed pleased. Even better, she didn’t bother asking inane questions about why he was there, or making excuses about what she and the others had just accomplished. “It would appear you are my second surprise of the evening. It’s been my experience that most young men run away from things of this sort.” The woman gave him a polite smile. “I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Helen Magnus.” She extended her hand.

Sam shrugged mentally before answering. “Winchester. Sam, actually.” Reaching forward, he shook her hand, slightly surprised at how firm her grip was. “Nice to meet you,” he added as an afterthought. 

Another smile, this one warmer, before Helen dropped his hand and set off back toward the residence. “The feeling is mutual, Sam. But tell me, what were you going to do when you caught it?” 

There was intensity to her words that told him how he answered was important to her, though he couldn’t be sure why. “I heard a girl scream as he…it…was leaving my dorm. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t hurting anyone, and that no one needed help.” That seemed safe enough, and it had the added bonus of being true. He wouldn’t have killed it outright unless he had to, not without researching what it was first. That was always a point of contention between him and his father. Even if they were hunting various monsters, he couldn’t always bring himself to shoot first and ask questions later. Shaking his head slightly to pull himself away from those memories, he looked over at Helen to gauge her reaction to his answer.

She didn’t seem surprised, and was nodding thoughtfully. “That’s an admirable intention. But for someone who just had their first brush with the unexplainable, you seem remarkably calm.”  
Sam couldn’t help but pause. There was no way she could know that his first exposure to such things had been decades ago. Oh, to be that naive again. The thought was fleeting, but made him smile.

Helen stopped walking to inspect him. “I’ve made an incorrect assumption. Will you tell me how you came to see such things as routine?”

Sam debated what to tell her. “You might say it’s a family business,” he chose his words with caution. “My family helps people who get caught up with things like that. I used to, before I came to school.” An oversimplification, but the best he could do under the circumstances. 

“And by things like that, you mean?” she trailed off in question.

Nodding, Sam smiled at her and glanced back towards Roble Hall. “I mean monsters, yeah.”

They started walking again, as Helen nodded. “I prefer not to use that term. A being isn’t evil because it’s different.” Her tone was still friendly, but there was a touch of frost to it to indicate her disapproval.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, surprised to realize he truly was. Stranger or not, what he’d seen so far told him this woman lived by a moral code he could respect. Besides that, she was right. “I didn’t mean anything by it, really,” he told her. “It’s just the terminology I’m used to.” 

“It’s alright, Sam. You’re hardly the first person I’ve met who doesn’t make the distinction. The abnormals of this world are, on the whole, a vastly misunderstood group.”

That answered his next question, what to call them if he wasn’t calling them monsters. But her answer raised more questions. He’d probably just spent a portion of his evening with someone better used to keeping secrets than he was, and wasn’t that just a novel thought. His curiosity urged him to ask at least some of the questions crowding in his brain, but practicality kept him silent. There wasn’t a lot of point in asking her things she wouldn’t be able to answer. By this point they’d walked past his residence to one of the auxiliary parking lots. As they came closer to the entrance the last of several dark SUVs was pulling out in a convoy as a sleek, black town car idled in one of the closest spaces. “I take it this is your stop,” he guessed.

“Yes,” Helen agreed. “I have a pressing appointment that I am already late for thanks to this incident.” A regretful look flitted across her face, as she produced a business card from a pocket in her pants. “This has my contact information. If ever you find yourself in a situation you think you might need my kind of assistance with, get in touch, and I’ll help all I can.” Moving towards the car, she smiled at him one last time. “It really was lovely to meet you, Sam Winchester. Take care of yourself.”

Nodding, Sam returned the smile. “You too,” he called to her. Sighing, he shifted his weight and watched as she climbed into the car, wanting to be sure she was safely on her way before starting the walk back to his room. He wasn’t sure he’d ever met someone that competent, but some habits were too ingrained to break.

Just before the door closed, Helen leaned back out to ask, “What are you studying, Sam?”  
“I’m pre-law,” Sam told her, confused at the question. He waited for the next question, but she waved and slid into the back seat of the car, which pulled away a moment later. Turning to walk back to his residence hall, he examined the business card she’d given him. It was plain white with black lettering, stamped with the embossed phrase Sanctuary For All, and listed Dr. Helen Magnus, M.D. D.T.C.X.B. as executive director. On the back, there was a phone number and an email address, neatly written in a feminine script. 

A small part of him wanted very much to go online and probe for more information, but he resisted the impulse. The last thing he needed to do was call attention to himself. He’d left the paranormal part of his life behind for very good reasons. Back in his room, he entered the information into his contact list on his encrypted laptop, then put the business card in the small safe he’d put under his bed. He didn’t intend to contact her again, but he wasn’t stupid enough to trash it. You never knew when friends in high places would come in handy.

***

San Francisco Sanctuary  
VIP Guest Wing  
5:37 am

“Yes, it’s early, Henry. I know your precious servers underwent maintenance overnight, and you likely haven’t been to bed yet. The sooner you comply, the sooner you can go to bed.” Though she wanted very much to crawl into bed as well, Helen wanted information more. Since she would be travelling and dealing with new arrivals most of the day, her resident computer genius would have to get it. 

“You’re the boss, doc,” Henry told her, hiding a yawn as best as he could manage. “What is it you need me to ferret out for you, exactly?”

“I met a young man today, and I want to know everything about him, nothing difficult.” Helen told him as she slid the pins out of her hair and rummaged in her luggage for sleepwear. “I’d like the results on my desk when I get back later today. Which is why I’m calling you now.”

“Alright. Who’s the lucky contestant this time?” he asked, and she heard him rolling his chair over to the appropriate keyboard. 

“His name is Sam Winchester. He’s a first-year student at Stanford University, pre-law.” Removing her jewelry to set it on her night table, Helen sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to see if there would be any questions.

“Okay, got it,” Henry agreed, as she heard keys clicking in the background. He didn’t ask anything further, though knowing his usual level of curiosity, it was almost certain there would be questions once she was home in Old City. Still, for such a young man, Sam was remarkably collected in crisis, if a little intense. He could be a valuable asset in future, and it paid to keep an eye on such people. It was worth a few inconvenient questions to be sure. She had a hunch about his history. Shaking her head, she said goodnight to Henry and assured him she was on schedule. Despite the unforeseen problems, she would be returning in plenty of time to deal with the incoming abnormals that were scheduled to arrive.

Helen dropped the hands-free headset onto the night table, undressed, and hung her clothes out of habit. After the long day, and the inevitable reaction from the earlier incident, the bed felt heavenly. She’d long since grown accustomed to sleeping wherever she found herself. She used the phone beside the bed to request a wake-up call for ten am, and then settled herself more comfortably. Tomorrow would be soon enough to get the answers she wanted.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Main Computer Lab  
7:58 am

One of the things Henry liked best about his job was that he never knew what his day would bring. Variety kept him from being bored, which tended to make him somewhat less destructive. Research was high on his favorite things list, no matter who he was digging into. Even better, the information on Samuel Winchester was almost too easy to find. It would be a bit longer before he had the complete background assembled but given Magnus’ penchant for detail, it was better to be thorough. At least this time when she claimed the task wasn’t difficult, it was actually true. Magnus didn’t have the same definition of difficult as most people, likely because accomplishing the impossible was almost a regular occurrence for her. Slurping up more coffee, he grimaced and swallowed the cold liquid anyway. He didn’t want to waste the time to reheat it, since he still had work to do.  
***

Old City Sanctuary  
Library  
12:01 pm

Every time she was away from home there was the inevitable crisis of some variety waiting for her when she wanted nothing more than some peace and quiet to collect her thoughts and a chance catch up on what she had missed. This time it was a leak in the coolant systems in one of the containers for an abnormal being transferred in from Moscow. Though the creature was quite small, it was incapable of surviving in temperatures that weren’t positively frigid. Fortunately, Henry had managed to jerry rig a solution to whatever had ruptured. He’d explained the intricacies, of course, but she had been less concerned with the details than the end results. 

In the end, all of the new residents were safely tucked away, and she was finally able to collapse at her desk, and sip at the hot tea Big Guy had left for her. Lips curving in a smile, she made a mental note to thank him for once again knowing her schedule better than she did. She set her cup back on its saucer, and let her head fall against the soft leather back of the chair. As her mind slid toward a lovely daydream about some uninterrupted time with the first edition on her night table, the sound of footsteps intruded. Her hirsute manservant came into the room, a file folder clutched in one oversized hand. “I’m sorry to bother you Helen,” he told her with a soft growl for emphasis. “But Henry told me that you wanted this information right away. It’s the background information on Sam Winchester.”

That got Helen’s attention. She scanned the pages quickly. She couldn’t help the slight smile she wore as her suspicions were confirmed. Lost in her contemplation of the young boy’s life, she wouldn’t have noticed that Bigfoot was even there until he cleared his throat. “The boy, he’s a hunter, isn’t he?” The shadows in his eyes made it clear he knew the answer.

“Not the kind you are thinking of. I am the first to agree that Hunters are, for the most part, a necessary evil. But this boy, he’s different.” She paused, lips pursed as she searched for the words to explain it. “He has an extremely active and flexible mind, I think and his test scores confirm it. Perhaps even more telling, he’s walked away from the life. Young Sam plans to be a lawyer. I suspect he’ll be a good one, because he also seems to have a conscience.” 

Though his outward expression didn’t change much, Magnus recognized the cynical glint in her old friend’s eyes. “Conscience or not, what use can there be for those who kill because some beings are not human?”

“Most Hunters serve a valuable function. Without them, many more people would have to come face to face with a level of evil they aren’t prepared to accept.” Helen rolled her shoulders to rid herself of the tension in her shoulders. This was by no means a new debate between them, but she couldn’t forget the pain he had been through that had formed his opinions on the subject. “The reason I wanted to know more about him wasn’t because of his background, though that is useful. He was absolutely level headed in crisis, more concerned with protecting his fellow students than what he might have been chasing. At some future point, if he finds that the mainstream world isn’t to his taste, he could be a valuable asset to the Sanctuary network.”

With a long suffering sigh, Bigfoot came around the desk and cleared the tea tray. “You see such goodness in people, Magnus. That can be a weakness as much as it is a strength,” he cautioned. For a moment, she thought he would say more, but when she nodded he seemed satisfied, and left to attend to whatever was next on the endless list of chores he maintained for himself.

***

 _February 2003_

Old City Sanctuary  
Helen Magnus’ Office  
12:14 am

Irritated, but determined not to show it, Helen hung up the phone without giving in to the childish urge to slam the thing into the cradle. Wexford was so damned arrogant that he was very lucky he was also extremely competent in his duties as head of the New York Sanctuary. There was no point in letting the absolute gall of the man spoil her night. She picked up her handheld terminal to check her email. Her lips curled into a smile as she glanced at her inbox. She hadn’t expected to hear from Sam Winchester, but here was an email from him.

It was short and to the point, which she appreciated. He detailed an encounter with a being he had never seen before, and couldn’t seem to track down information on, except that it was nomadic. Given that he was tied to campus, he thought she should know that it had passed through and was on the move again. He made a point of telling her that the being, which approximated a cross between a crocodile and a hyena, appeared to be docile and wasn’t attacking people, only scaring them. That explained why he hadn’t called his own contacts; he probably didn’t want to see the thing killed if it was misidentified or caught by hunters with little or no conscience. 

Helen paused to sip from the mug of tea at her elbow before she composed a reply thanking him for the information and assuring him that the abnormal would be dealt with. Once those assurances were made, Helen told him she would welcome correspondence with him at any time, regardless of subject. To reinforce it, she asked how his classes were going and typed out an anecdote that had circulated the Sanctuary in the last few days. Granted, it had ended with Henry covered in a corrosive purple slime, but a little embarrassment was nothing in the bigger picture of cultivating what she hoped someday would be a friendship, especially when the embarrassment wasn’t her own. She tapped send with her index finger, then set the tablet down. She allowed the satisfaction of knowing Sam Winchester had reached out to her to bleed away her frustration with Wexford. With luck, this email would be the first of many.  
***  
 _November 2005_

Old City Sanctuary  
North Tower Rooftop Balcony  
2:36 am

Even Helen knew it was late enough that she should be in bed. Instead of sleeping, she was on the roof of Sanctuary gazing at Old City spread out in twinkling lights before her. She wished that the beauty would distract her from the contents of the email she had received from Sam earlier that day. It didn’t, nothing could. Imagining the pain he must feel made her hurt for him. She could no more turn that part of herself off than she could stop breathing, and she didn’t want to. The sound of footsteps didn’t surprise her; neither did the soft, guttural growls of concern.

“It’s late. You should be sleeping.” The statement was quiet, but the scolding was still obvious.

“I know, old friend. I’ve just had some bad news. I needed a chance to think.” Crossing her arms, Helen tipped her head toward the view. “I thought I’d let the view help me quiet my mind.”

“You heard from him, the hunter boy. I can see it on you,” Big Foot told her, his expression concerned. “What has happened?”

Helen fought the urge to sigh. “His girlfriend was murdered, by person or beings unknown. He’s gone back to the life, to avenge her. He’ll be travelling with his brother, who I am given to understand might be able to keep him out of a measure or trouble.” She trailed off, going over the facts Sam had been so sparing with, and adding in what Henry had been able to dig up. There wasn’t much, given that most the world had no idea that demons were real. She wasn’t going to burden Henry for the sake of her own curiosity. 

Big Foot already knew that demons existed. He and members of his tribe had personal experience, though he would not go in to detail as to how or why. He had always been intensely private on the subject of those who had exiled him. 

“Do you still think he will show mercy to those who deserve it?” His tone conveyed the skepticism he felt, but somehow it was that very skepticism that made her feel better.

“I think he has the potential to be a powerful ally, provided he manages to keep himself alive . He has enough empathy to let me know he may not be able to keep in touch for quite some time. He didn’t want me to worry. That doesn’t sound evil to me.” Helen thought it said quite a bit about any young man’s character to be able to think of others in the midst of suffering.

“If you have such faith in him, Doctor, I will reserve judgment, I am not certain you are correct this time.” Bigfoot looked at her with concern, angling himself to shelter her from more of the wind.

Despite her mood, she chuckled. “I never claimed I was always correct, regardless of what my detractors say. You, of all people, should know that.” Helen looked out at the view one last time, then walked back toward the door. “I’m sure we both have things we should be doing, my friend. I, for one, should be sleeping.” Back inside, Helen let the warmth and comfort of the familiar wrap around her. Sam would either channel his grief and prove himself, or he wouldn’t.

***

 _October 2009_

EZ Sleep Motel, Alliance, Nebraska  
Room 312  
1:15 am

The sheer volume of the snoring coming from the blanket-covered lump in Dean’s bed was enough to make Sam fantasize about stuffing cotton in his ears, or being able to wave a magic wand and have a room of his own. They were low on funds, he’d lost his last pair of ear plugs two jobs ago, and he was too damn tired to find a drug store and replace them. He made his way to the rickety table across from their kitchenette. Sam hoped Dean would stop snoring loud enough to register on the Richter scale when he changed positions. Until then, there were things he could check on the laptop to distract himself. 

Drumming on the table with his pen while the machine booted up, he started his usual scan of obituaries. Given the number of key search terms he had to keep his eyes out for, he had a program that did the drone work of sorting through the listings nationwide that flagged the ones which were likely matches., However, the program was no use to him if he didn’t go through the results. He’d nearly finished sorting through when a name from an in memoriam listing jumped out at him. As he re-read it, all thoughts of sleeping were forgotten. He read a second and then a third time, and his stomach knotted. It was a full color announcement, with the name Ashley Magnus in ornate font at the top and a poem beneath it. He barely glanced at the poem, before he shook his head and opened his email inbox in another tab in the browser.

When he started typing her name, Helen’s address filled in automatically. They’d kept in touch over the years when he found a job that was more abnormal than monster-like. Dean never questioned him about how he knew her or what she did. He seemed content to accept Sam’s word that she was an expert in that sort of thing. Still, just to be on the safe side, Sam never told Dean about the job offer. The last thing he needed was his brother convinced he was going to leave again. He emailed as often as his schedule would permit. Helen frequently told him stories about Sanctuary staff: Big Foot, Henry, Ashley and Will, the newest recruit, who was something of a protégé. Even though he’d never had a chance to meet Ashley in person, Sam had liked what he’d heard and could only imagine the pain Helen and her friends were feeling. 

Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, he composed a letter of condolence. It seemed pitifully inadequate as his finger hovered over the send button. Remembering what had helped him, he added a line at the end. _No matter how many loved ones we lose to the darkness, if we let that make us bitter and angry and refuse to be happy again, then the darkness gets what it wants_ , he typed quickly, signing his name and sending it before he could edit further. Helen would know what he meant. He hoped she’d also know all the things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the words for.

***

 _Present Day_

Lisa Braeden’s Residence  
Master Bedroom  
5:30 am

The alarm jarred Dean out of the nightmare, and he rubbed a hand over his face, as he slapped at the snooze button to silence the horrendous noise. He tried to calm his racing heartbeat as he turned to look at Lisa, asleep beside him, and reminded himself of all the things he had in his life that he should be grateful for. It wasn’t every day that you found a beautiful woman who would accept you, with all your baggage. Throw in a kid who was surprisingly awesome, and any way he figured it he was damn lucky. The only problem was a large part of him didn’t care.

As he stared at the ceiling, Dean heard himself promising Sam, for what was probably the thousandth time, that he would live and have a life and not try to find a way to bring him out of hell. The strength of Sam’s voice, the intensity in his expression, not to mention the grief in his eyes, wouldn’t stop replaying in his mind. Logically, it was obvious that his own guilt was dictating the playlist for his subconscious. Emotionally, Dean wasn’t sure how much more the guilt could eat at him and still allow him to function. He hadn’t slept a full night in months, was barely eating enough to keep himself going, and the amount he was drinking wasn’t exactly healthy either. If he was being honest, he had to admit it only added to guilt knowing that Lisa was getting the short end of the relationship equation.

The hole caused by Sam’s absence was getting bigger every day. He could work himself to exhaustion, or drink until he passed out, but nothing was going to make it go away. As if that pain of loss wasn’t hard enough to deal with, there was also the weight of knowing he had failed. If only he’d managed to find a way to change things. It was his job to save Sam; it had been his job since he was four years old. Still, Sam was gone. Not just gone, but in Hell. Suffering agonies that defied description. Of course, he didn’t really need a description. His own time in Hell was vividly etched in his mind

Caught up in his thoughts, Dean didn’t notice Lisa was awake until after she stared at him for a long moment. “Another nightmare, Dean?” she asked, the gentle concern in her eyes a good match for the sympathy in her tone.

He resisted the urge to bristle at the sympathy and nodded. There wasn’t really anything he was comfortable saying. Lisa knew more about what had happened than anyone else in his life, except Bobby. She had been with him long enough to know when not to push, so she only stroked her hands down his chest and up again to hold his arm. When he didn’t protest the contact, she leaned over and kissed him gently, a comfort to the ragged edges within him. Pulling back, she smiled at him sadly, before sliding out of the bed and heading for the bathroom. 

After a few moments, the taps came on just after the toilet flushed and then he heard her feet shuffling in the hall carpet as she headed to the kitchen to make coffee. She didn’t have to be up for work for another hour, so he appreciated the gesture enough to drag himself out of the bed and start making himself presentable. The thought of another day of mind-numbing monotony of construction work was a lead weight in his stomach, and his hands were shaking, but that was nothing a hot shower and a decent breakfast wouldn’t cure. With an effort, he ignored the tiny voice in the back of his mind that disagreed, and headed for the bathroom.

By the time he walked into the kitchen, dressed except for his socks, Lisa was pouring him a cup of her truly excellent but top-secret coffee blend. It took him a moment to notice that she had her serious face on, and looked far more awake than the hour of the morning required. “What’s wrong? Did something happen while I was in the shower?” For once his first thought wasn’t of monsters, but of the boy who was supposed to be asleep upstairs. “Is Ben alright?”

“Ben’s fine, Dean,” Lisa told him. For a moment, her hands shook, and so did her tone, but then she seemed to settle. “I just think we need to talk.”

The chuckle escaped before he could stop it, but it was more nerves than humor. “In my experience, it’s never a good thing when a woman says that to me.” When she didn’t show a hint of a smile, he felt a ball of icy dread form in his stomach. “Look, I know I haven’t been at my best lately, and I am sorry. But I can do better,” he told her. Even as he said it though, he could hear the edge of desperation in his tone. The little voice in the back of his mind asked him which one of them he was trying to convince. The day-to-day routine already took everything he had just to stay afloat. 

“It’s not about you doing better. You’re doing fine. But we both know you’re miserable, and you’re getting worse, not better. I thought if you just had a chance to rest and recover with people who cared about you…who loved you,” Lisa’s voice broke, but then she cleared her throat and continued. “I thought you just needed time to heal, but time isn’t helping you. The weight you are carrying around just keeps getting heavier and heavier and if you stay here, I’m afraid it will crush you.

Shaking his head, Dean resisted the urge to slam his mug onto the table. She didn’t deserve his temper for being honest. “I’m not miserable, Lisa. I’m just…” he trailed off. Who the hell knew what he was, but he wasn’t miserable. A man would know that about himself, wouldn’t he? 

It was Lisa’s turn to laugh. “Yes, you are. You just won’t let yourself stop long enough to realize it.” She stepped closer until she could take his hand, and squeeze it gently. “I know you love me, I do. But if you loved me the way I love you, then being with me would be enough to hold whatever is haunting you at bay. And it’s not. You want to honor Sam’s memory by doing what he asked of you, and I understand that.” She paused and stroked her fingers down his cheek so tenderly it made his chest ache. “Dean, he never would have asked you if he knew what it would cost you. No matter how much you wish it were otherwise, the truth is, you love the idea of having a real family, of being able to be happy in that kind of life, much more than you love me.” Tears pooled in her eyes as she spoke, but her voice stayed steady as she stared into his eyes.

“I know I don’t know all the details about what happened, but it’s obvious you still need answers about some of it. You owe it to yourself and to Sam to go find them. Once you have them, then maybe you’ll be able to find the person who’s the one for you. More importantly, maybe you’ll find some peace. Either way, I’ll always be your friend. I’ll always be here if you need me. Nothing will change that.” 

Dean opened his mouth to deny again, then closed it with an audible snap that sounded loud in the pre-dawn light of the kitchen. Hearing her say it made him hurt inside, but it didn’t make her wrong. After everything she had done for him, the least he owed her was some honesty. He hadn’t cried in so long that it was surprising he hadn’t forgotten how. He’d hadn’t allowed himself to feel enough to need to, at least while awake, but staring at Lisa dressed in a plain white cotton t-shirt and a pair of flannel pajama pants, he had to swallow a lump of tears before he could speak. “I want to argue with you, to prove you wrong, but I can’t. You’re mostly right.” he told her, ignoring how his tone wavered. “But it’s not just the idea of family life I love, it’s you too.”

“I know, Dean. But not enough. And that’s not your fault and I don’t blame you. And when he gets over being mad, I’ll make sure Ben doesn’t either. So you don’t have to worry about us. We’ll be okay.”

This time, when he smiled, Dean was able to actually find a genuine laugh. “Oh I have no doubt of that. You’re the strongest woman I know. Everything will be alright because you damn well say it is,” he told her, only half kidding.

Leaving wasn’t as simple as that. He had to pack up all his things to be put in storage, and get the Impala road-ready again. Most of the supplies he needed for the trunk weren’t just things he could pick up at the corner value mart. He wasn’t so out of practice that getting everything was difficult, just time consuming. What he thought would be the hardest part, saying goodbye to Ben, was both easier and harder than he expected. Oh, the kid was mad alright, and had no problem making that known, but when Dean finally turned to look at him it wasn’t anger he saw, but sadness. “Look, Ben, I know it’s hard to understand now, but it’s not that I want to go, it’s because I have to go,” he explained, hating how much he sounded like his dad, but knowing it was still true.

“I know,” Ben told him, looking down at his feet, shoulders slumping. “I’ve always known you would go,” he continued. “That’s what guys like you do.”

Dean tried to find the words that would help, as his stomach twisted with guilt. “Not every guy leaves, you know. And if we do, it’s not because of you, I promise.” He kept his voice calm, and willed the boy to believe him.

“Oh, I know that,” Ben exclaimed, looking surprised. “I just meant that guys like you, who save people, they can’t stay with one person, because then they aren’t doing their job. And since most people don’t know about monsters, you have to do your job. Well, that and you have to at least try to find Sam. But that’s because that’s your job as the big brother.” 

Both the words and the calmly matter-of -act tone threw Dean. He wanted to ask how Ben had managed to find out about Sam, but it didn’t matter. He cleared his throat and nodded. “You know kid, that might just be the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me. And you’re right about why I have to. But, if you know that, why are you mad?”

“It’s just not fair. I like having you for a dad, and I wish you didn’t have to go.” The first part came out in a rush and then Ben paused, looked down again. “Besides, I don’t think you are going to come back to live with us after. And I’m going to miss you.” The admission was made in such a low voice that Dean could hardly hear it, even as he opened his arms to hug Ben, who squeezed tightly right back.

“I’ll tell you what,” Dean promised, ignoring the roughness in his own voice. “You might be right. I may not be back to live with you, but you can always call me. I may not be able to stay here to be your dad, but you matter to me, and I will help all I can, even if it has to be from a distance, deal?”

“Deal,” Ben replied, voice still muffled in the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Infirmary, Recovery Room  
7:01 am

Moving as quietly as he could manage, Big Foot covered Helen with a soft blanket that had been folded on a chair in the corner of the cheerfully appointed room. She hadn’t been to bed since they had transferred Will home from Mumbai. Though everyone was concerned that young William hadn’t woken up, Helen seemed particularly frustrated with the fact that although Will seemed physically within the normal ranges for someone recovering from trauma, he had yet to regain consciousness. After everything that Will had been through, it didn’t seem so strange that his mind would need some time to process everything, so he wasn’t overly worried yet. 

He had the utmost confidence in the doctor’s medical skills. True, he suspected there had been close calls she hadn’t told anyone about, but the boy was here, and stable. He had also known Magnus long enough to know that if he woke her, rather than going to bed, she would simply continue in her search for answers. Better she get what rest she could, even if it was in a position guaranteed to give her a stiff neck.

There were many other things on his schedule for the morning that he needed to get to, especially given that he would need to keep a better eye on Henry and Kate with Helen occupied with Will as she was. Helen’s tunnel vision could be useful, but it also meant opportunities for mischief that could be exploited, even by those with the best of intentions. He would need to make sure nothing got out of hand, while he made sure that the household ran smoothly. Near death experiences, attempted coups and catastrophic disaster cleanup would come and go, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a need for clean laundry, good food, and hot coffee or tea, not to mention properly filed paperwork.

Just over an hour later, he slipped back into the room to check on the sleeping woman again. Helen was still in the same position. When she allowed herself to crash, she tended to crash hard. As he stepped forward to make sure her blanket was covering as much of her as possible, the devices hooked up to monitor will caught his attention. Though the young man’s vitals were still stable, his brainwave activity was not what should have been showing up for an unconscious person.

Given Will’s encounter with the goddess Kali, it made sense for there to be some abnormalities in the scans. These readouts were well outside range. They showed someone engaged in activities that were intensely emotional, and not necessarily pleasant. Coupled with that, the centers responsible for higher reasoning and critical thinking were working over time. Since this was Will’s brain, the latter wasn’t much of a surprise, but the combination was cause for concern. Noting the time, Big Foot went to the computer to log the event and take an image of the readouts, in case they changed before the doctor woke up.

As soon as keyboard clicked, Helen stirred and sat up, uttering a soft groan as her hand went to her neck. Big Foot turned to watch awareness come back to her face, as she stretched her shoulders and automatically checked the readouts from the monitors. The only sign of outward reaction was a slight widening of her eyes, but he saw the concern she was working to hide. “How long has that been going on?” she asked, as she joined him at the computer. 

“A few minutes, no more,” he assured her. With the ease of long practice he moved out of her way and went to refold the blanket she had discarded. “The readouts match the screen capture images I just took, so you haven’t missed anything important.” 

Helen nodded and called up Will’s medical file on the main screen. There were definite differences between his baseline and the output now. There was no way to know how much Will’s experiences with the Macri and Kali had fundamentally altered his brain chemistry and function. His deliberate brush with death to try to contact Kali was another variable. She hadn’t found any literature to counter Rheka’s assertions that Will wasn’t long for this Earth because he was no longer host to Macri. He was still alive, which would seem to contradict the tradition, but Rheka had told Helen not to get her hopes up. Helen shook her head slightly and squared her shoulders. Damned if she was going to lose another loved one. Will would fight, she knew he would. All she had to do counteract the physiological problems he may have and keep him alive to find his way back to himself.

After almost a week with around the clock effort, they had managed to keep him alive, but Helen began to wonder if Kali had spared his body only to keep his soul. As she checked on him after the session with the physiotherapist, a small voice in the back of her mind insisted on reminding her that if she hadn’t recruited Will into this life, he would have been fine. 

Granted, he would still have been unhappy and searching for his answers, but he would have been living his life, not lying in an infirmary bed. She pushed the guilt away. He had survived being host to the Macri, the forceful removal of the tiny abnormal and its death. His organs should have shut down, but he was still alive. She hoped that the latest drug cocktail would tip things in Will’s favor. 

Footsteps in the hall preceded Kate by a few moments. The normally brash girl was quiet, and twisting her hands as she approached the doorway. Knowing how uncomfortable she was with all things medical, and how close she and Will had become, Helen was not surprised. 

“Any change, doc?” Kate asked, leaning against the door.

Summoning a reassuring smile, Helen shook her head. “Not as of yet, I’m afraid. He’s not declining either, and that’s a positive for us, I believe.”

Kate frowned as she edged closer to the bed. “No offense, but I think a positive would be him opening his eyes and telling us all not to worry.”

Helen reached down to adjust the pillows on the bed behind Will’s head and resisted the urge to sigh. “Yes, I agree with you. Unfortunately, I can’t predict when that will happen.” 

Kate shifted her weight, and stared at her feet as her shoulders slumped. “I want to keep my hopes up, I really do. But the longer he stays unconscious, the harder it gets.”

Careful not to give in to the urge to reach out and touch the other woman as she moved closer, Helen nodded in sympathy. Before she could find words to comfort, there was a muted beep and both of them swung their attention to the monitors near the bed. Another higher pitched tone sounded and Helen hurried to check Will’s vitals. 

“Is he getting worse? Is that what that means?” Kate asked.

“Quite the contrary actually. It appears he has decided to come closer to consciousness. I can’t take the credit for it, as we have done nothing differently today than any other day of treatment. But the readouts indicate he could be waking up.” Helen stole a glance over at the smaller woman. Though she pretended she was as mercenary as ever, Kate had gotten close enough to everyone to be considered one of their small, occasionally dysfunctional, family. She masked her feelings under her usual layer of streetwise toughness, but they were there. Watching Will, her emotions were closer to the surface than usual.

Kate looked down at Will’s still form doubtfully as she reached for his hand. “He still looks asleep to me,” she countered. 

“Waking from a coma is often a gradual process. It may take hours, even days for him to come to full consciousness. What’s important is that he’s begun the process, that he’s finding his way back to us.” The weight of the guilt clenched around her heart lessened, the relief so huge it took all of her control not to give in to tears. If she cried, it would be later in the safety of her room. Helen Magnus was not a woman who lost control easily, and certainly never with an audience, she told herself.

“Well, if you are finally waking up, you ought to hurry up about it, man.” Kate held to her tough demeanor “I’m tired of carrying your weight while you laze around in a bed. And we’re due for a large refuge arrival, and let me tell you, I am not doing your paperwork, psych boy.” Helen squeezed her colleague’s shoulder and laughed as she led the way out of the room to spread the good news. 

Everyone found their way into the recovery room over the course of that day, calling to Will, catching him up on recent events, bribing with promises of his favorite food or movies. Though he was now very definitely restless, moving around much more and edging closer and closer to wakefulness, he didn’t open his eyes until sunset. As the light painted the walls varying shades of red, Helen stepped into the room. She had forced herself to catch up on some of her work backlog, checking on Will only remotely. Still, it was one thing to see him on a monitor in her office and another to be in the room with him.  
Walking to the window to admire the last of the streaks of color painted across the sky, she crossed her arms over her chest, and breathed deeply. “Alright, William,” she murmured, about to turn back to the bed. “You’ve rested long enough. It’s more than time for you to wake up.” She could admit she half hoped he would answer her, but there was no response. After a few more moments, she smoothed her hands down her shirt front and moved to leave, chuckling softly to herself. “Can’t say I didn’t try, I suppose.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” The voice was so weak, if the room hadn’t been so quiet she might not have heard it.

Rushing to his bedside, Helen couldn’t help but beam happily. “About time you woke up,” she teased, close to tears again, even in the midst of her happiness at seeing Will looking back at her.

In typical Will fashion, he noticed the sheen of tears in her eyes, and even weakened and confused his first reaction was concern for her. “Hey, don’t cry. I’m okay, I promise.”

Helen kissed his cheek lightly, then shook her head. “I think I shall be the judge of that.” She grabbed the medical bag she had been keeping in the room since the start of her vigil over Will, and confirmed his vitals. She felt steadier with each normal reading, but more emotional than she was altogether comfortable with. After assuring herself that Will was alert and oriented and had all his faculties intact she managed to get him to promise to rest.

She left to let everyone know the good news but only made it a short distance before realizing she was in no shape to talk to anybody, even about good news. Backtracking quickly, she all but slammed the door to her bedroom before her knees gave way. She slid down to the floor and let the tears come. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe her own findings. One thing she always had confidence in was her own abilities. But she hadn’t realized just how scared she had been until the fear was gone. And it had been so very close; she hadn’t told the rest of the team the number of times she’d had to revive him. Without a doubt, she would be fine in a few minutes, but until then, she would very quietly fall apart, at least until she could purge the last of her careening emotions.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Will Zimmerman’s Room  
1:04 am

In the days that had passed since he woke up in the infirmary, Will had plenty of visitors during the day. Even after he was pronounced well on the road to recovery and allowed to move back to his own room, everyone found time to pop in and check up on him, and make sure he didn’t need anything. Well, most of them. Kate just wanted to harass him and a few of the more taciturn residents seemed simply to want to lay eyes on him. Things were normal enough, considering what had happened. 

Kate wasn’t comfortable with real displays of affection, so she hid behind sarcasm and jokes. The Big Guy showed he cared by taking care of all the little day-to-day things, and preparing all of Will’s favorite foods. He knew so many of them that Will suspected some of his personnel files had been perused. Henry wasn’t uncomfortable with emotion, he just didn’t know how to express it in his non-furry form, and he got them back into their usual routines of work and movie nights with barely even a bump. 

However, they all looked at him, out of the corner of their eyes, when they thought he wasn’t aware of it. They couldn’t know that he was always aware, that their worry battered at him like a physical thing. Helen was the only one who seemed able to act normal around him, likely because she had dealt with loss and trauma so much more than everyone else. Whatever the reason, he was grateful for the slices of normalcy spending time with her could give him. As the days went by though, she started asking, gently, about his experiences while he was unconscious. He made vague excuses about being uncertain, though he felt guilty for lying to her, he wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t even try to find the words that could explain his experiences with Kali in a way that someone could relate to.

He missed her. Every single minute, every single day, he missed the sense of Kali’s presence inside his mind, the feeling of total rightness it gave him. Losing her left an ache he imagined was the emotional version of phantom limb syndrome. Logically, he knew the facts of the situation, those he’d been aware of and those explained to him after the fact. 

After the Macri died, he’d accepted that he needed to die so that his spirit could contact Kali. There was no other way to communicate with her and ask for her to spare his people. The facts didn’t help the emotions he was trying to deal with after having been tied so closely to something so beyond human. It was frustrating that there were often no words to explain it all. Goddess didn’t really come close to describing her, it was simply the closest English word he could find. Telling people he’d been telepathically linked to a super abnormal wasn’t the truth either. The closeness he’d felt, the exquisite layering of thoughts and feelings, and the unconditional love and acceptance was something that he simply couldn’t put aside.

Fortunately, Helen seemed to understand that certain things wouldn’t – couldn’t – be discussed after one look at the emotions in his eyes. She still urged him to talk, but not in specifics. It made the days slightly more bearable, as long as he was distracted. Between physical therapy and the drone light duty work that Magnus would allow him to do, he managed to keep busy enough to get through the days. The nights, however, were another matter entirely. Will didn’t want the fact that he was suffering from insomnia becoming public knowledge. It would only worry everyone more. Rather than wander the halls, which had been his cure for sleepless nights in the past, he curled up on the bench seat below his window and tried to read, or to write in his journal. Neither happened all that frequently, for two reasons. 

The first was the dreams. Every second day or so, he would fall asleep with no problem, and the dreams would come. They started off innocuously enough, but they never stayed that way. He would see two men, obviously connected in some way, likely family. In every dream they would fight the most horrible monsters. He couldn’t out his finger on why, but he knew they weren’t abnormal. Some of them looked human, but they were so twisted and evil that it showed through their skin, and their eyes were wrong; some were black, some red, and once or twice, they were yellow. Other times, the monsters weren’t human looking, but they radiated a level of hatred and a hunger that always stayed with him after he woke, clinging to him, roiling his stomach and making him feel like he needed a shower. 

As if the evil in the dreams wasn’t bad enough, sometimes the men weren’t quite fast enough and they would be hurt. All he could do was watch, a helpless observer, just like he had been as a child. He wouldn’t be able to sleep for a night, or sometimes two, after he had one of the disturbingly nightmarish dreams. But sitting up awake was not a relief. He would get his journal out, and try to sort through his thoughts, make some sense of everything that happened. The thoughts in his mind didn’t want to coalesce into the patterns that were some familiar and comforting. Instead, there was an overwhelming sense that everything that made him who he was had shifted. He was different in some fundamental way that was at once vitally important and just beyond his grasp.

As a doctor, he understood that it was normal and expected that a near death experience would bring about some degree of emotional turmoil. Add to that the normal grieving process for any loss, and it made sense that he was upset, and that his subconscious would attempt to help him process and resolve things. He’s explained that very point to any number of patients, past and present, but that wasn’t much help while he was wide awake after yet another round monster versus human in his dreams. 

Tonight had brought a new twist: there was only one man facing off against the creature, whatever it was. Despite not knowing him, even Will could feel the weight of his sadness and isolation. It was ridiculous to feel sympathy for a figment of his own imagination, but he did. He was self aware enough to admit that ever since he had come back to himself, he had been feeling alone. His friends were wonderful but they couldn’t put things back the way they had been before. 

Even if they weren’t real, at least the dreams were giving him something to focus on beyond feelings of bereavement. Sometimes you had to take your distractions where you could get them. Staring out into the darkness without really seeing it, Will reminded himself that he was a well adjusted person who had been through a lot of strange happenings. Eventually, he would adjust to this one, just as he had all the others.

***

It was always harder to get going after the dreams. It had been hours before he dozed off for a few scant hours of intermittent sleep. He had only managed that much because his body was so exhausted it shut down his brain in self-defense. He was hardly going to get back to normal ignoring the work that needed doing. As a concession to the fatigue that dragged at him, Will made only a brief stop in his office. Then he detoured to the kitchen and poured himself an oversized mug of coffee. After a moment, he grabbed another mug and poured one for Henry. The werewolf was a disgustingly early riser and by now, Will knew he’d gotten into whatever project had his attention and let his coffee go cold. He hadn’t specified why he wanted to see Will first thing this morning, but it never hurt to arrive with gifts, especially if it turned out to be an unpleasant conversation.

There was no sign of Henry when he got to the lab. Will wasn’t worried, since he often had to get up close and personal will all kinds of equipment to work his special brand of magic. “Henry?” he called. “I brought you a coffee.”After a moment, Henry appeared from behind a stack of metal components piled beside a table placed in one of the back corners, well away from any of the more sensitive computers and electronics. After the fiasco with the new ultrasonic weapon, Magnus had declared that Henry was no longer allowed to fix anything near equipment that wasn’t broken. 

“Thanks, man.” Accepting the mug, Henry rubbed a hand over his face and then took a long sip. “I was just about to come find you, figured you’d be up by now.”

“Are you okay?” Will asked.

Stifling a yawn, Henry was quick to shake his head. “No, no, no, I’m fine. But I want you to look at something and see if you see the same thing. I’ve looked it over a couple of times, and I’ve triple checked everything, but it’s been a long night. Your eye for detail is better than mine…or anyone else’s really.”

“Alright,” Will answered, curious to see what had pulled Henry in so thoroughly. He’d been up all night, and was edgy. Will didn’t think it was all from caffeine. “Why do I get the feeling whatever this is, I’m not going to like it?” he remarked, coming closer to the main display monitor hooked into Henry’s workstation.

“Just look,” was all Henry said, but his eyes were bleak, and his voice was uneven.

At first the information on the screen seemed random, financial statements from companies with no link. Then Will’s brain supplied where he had seen all the names before. “These are all Cabal front companies.” He knew he was right, but Henry answered anyway. 

“Yep.” A pause, while Will noted the droop to his shoulders, the pinched look around his eyes, and the compression of his lips that indicated serious unhappiness. “Magnus asked me to keep everything we had on them, just in case.”

“Why are you rehashing ancient history?” He kept his tone gentle, but if anything, Henry looked even unhappier at the question. 

“Look at the dates for the transaction activity.”

It only took a few seconds for the pattern to emerge. “These are all within the last six months,” Will noted as he saw the dates. “This doesn’t make any sense. When they took Ashley, Druitt practically dismantled the Cabal singlehandedly. There aren’t enough of their people left to generate this much activity. There sure as hell aren’t enough people to be generating this much income.”

“Yeah, I know,” Henry told him. “I’ve been running a trace program on the Cabal holdings, such as they were after tall, bald and scary was through with them. I figured it couldn’t hurt. But with everything so crazy busy, I let it go. I remembered it yesterday, and I was hoping you would tell me that it wasn’t what I thought it was.”

“I wish I could. By the looks of this, not only have they somehow found a new source of income, but it looks like they have had a major recruiting drive.” 

“Great, just what the world needs. More corporate drones with no soul,” Henry remarked. “So I guess this means what I thought it did, then.” 

There was such reluctance in his tone that Will wished he could disagree. There was only one possible next step. It was the last thing he wanted to do, knowing the wounds it would rip open, the inevitable hurt it would cause, but that didn’t make it less necessary. “We need to tell Magnus, right now.”

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Entrance Road  
9:12 pm

Of course it was raining, and not just a nice little shower or a short squall. No, any minute now Dean expected to sprout gills or see a guy with a really big boat go floating by. The streets were more lake than road, the rain was coming down in sheets that were nearing horizontal and obscuring everything but a few inches in front of him. He continued his slow and careful way up the gentle spiral of the road he was on. Damned if he was going to just abandon his baby to the elements and walk because of a little water. He had gotten wet enough at his last stop for coffee and food that the heater had turned the interior of the Impala into a sauna. Once again, he looked at his handwritten directions on the passenger seat and shook his head. 

This is what he got for going off on wild goose chases, when he should know better. He and Bobby had already tried all the solid leads on Sam they could scare up. Hell, they’d even covered some of the sketchier ones. In point of fact, Bobby had told him in no uncertain terms that it was time to try to move on and live life the way Sam had asked. In a place he rarely even acknowledged, let alone looked, something inside of Dean said he had to keep looking, that this was important, and not just for Sam.

There was a part of him that wanted to insist that the reason he hadn’t found anything was because there was nothing to find. Hell, he was on a first name basis with an angel. You’d think if there was a way to rescue a soul, a winged altar boy would know. Dean had tried calling Castiel, more than once, but there had been no answer. There was no way of telling whether that meant he was busy, or that he couldn’t help. Until he was given reason to think otherwise, Dean clung to the idea that things were just too chaotic in heaven for the angel to lend any assistance. It was possible that there were more celestial rules or some crap like that in play, but breaking rules had never been a problem for Dean, no matter who set them.

After few minutes of crawling up the road, a gate loomed in front of him in the pale headlight beams. When he pulled up, Dean noticed the intercom box. He was hoping meant someone was actually around to answer it. Lowering his window reluctantly, he hit the button marked “talk”, which produced a muted tone. “I’m looking for Dr. Helen Magnus,” he explained, trying for his most who-me-I’m-harmless innocent tone and mustering up a wide smile for any cameras he might be displayed on. He wasn’t stupid enough to believe they weren’t there because he couldn’t see them. 

“A great many people are looking for the doctor. What makes you think she would want you to find her?” The voice seemed amused, which Dean speculated was likely because with the window down he was doing a spectacular impression of a drowned rat.

“My name is Dean Winchester. She knows my bother Sam,” He refused to use the past tense on principle, but paused to consider how best to present the situation. He already knew she was an expert on weird things, given the times Sam had called her. Knowing she knew about monsters didn’t mean he could just march up to the gate and announce he wanted the good doctor’s help to rescue his brother from Hell. That sort of thing tended to be more of a fast track to a straight jacket than a conversation starter. 

Before he could make up his mind what to say, there was another muted click, and the gate swung open. The amused voice didn’t speak again, but that didn’t matter. Dean knew an invitation when he saw one, and rolled through the gap as quickly as the torrents of water would allow. Even in the watery darkness, the structure he drove up to was impressive. It looked to be more of a castle than private research facility. Then again, there had to be some serious bucks behind being able to ditch the nine to five grind and research whatever it was they had their noses stuck into here. 

Resigning himself to being completely soaked, he checked to be sure his gun was secure in the holster under his jacket and swung out of the car to dash to the door illuminated by a single light just ahead of where he’d parked. In better weather, even he may have spared a moment to admire the well tended courtyard, but right now his goal was getting under cover.

The door opened before he could knock and an exotic looking woman in a battered pair of jeans and a low cut tank top gestured him in. “Get in here before you drown. Boss’ll be right down,” she told him in a lazy almost-drawl that belied the careful appraisal she was giving him. Dean didn’t care so much about the once over when she handed him a warmed towel and closed the door behind him.

“Thanks,” he managed, before making sure his shirt was arranged properly to cover his gun and shrugging out of his jacket and engulfing his head and shoulders in the towel.

Dean admired the girl’s reflexes as she caught his coat before it could hit the floor. She tossed it onto a coat rack tucked into the corner. 

“I’m Kate,” she told him, smiling a little at the puddle that was forming around his feet. “I’d ask how your trip was, but I think I can guess the answer already. I doubt it was pleasure that brought you out on a night like this.” 

Shrugging off the thinly veiled question, Dean continued to dry off. “I’m known for my crappy travel luck. You said your boss was on the way down. Is your boss Helen Magnus?”

Just as the girl opened her mouth to answer, a tall, elegantly dressed brunette swept into the room. “Well, opinions vary on who has charge of our Kate,” she told him, shaking his hand in a firm grip. “But, yes, I am Helen Magnus. I’m very pleased to meet you Dean. I’ve heard a great deal about you. I am sorry that Sam isn’t with you, though. Is he alright?” 

Trying to decide what he thought of the aristocratic woman, Dean tried for a non-straightjacket answer. “That’s kind of what I came to talk to you about,” he began, flashing his most charming smile. “But it’s kind of a personal matter.”

“Of course. Why don’t we go into my office,” Magnus replied, smiling as she gestured down the hall and moved to walk beside him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to meet you immediately. We had an internal matter come to our attention this morning that has managed to consume most of my day, I’m afraid.”

Accepting the apology with a nod, Dean tried not to gape at his palatial surroundings. Even his inexperienced eye recognized quality antiques and art when he saw them. “No problem,” he assured her. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before they came to a set of French doors, which she opened and ushered him into the room beyond. 

Whatever he might have expected, the spacious and blessedly warm office wasn’t it. There were enough bookshelves that he might have thought he was in a library, except that the shelves held a collections of strange objects that he couldn’t have named if he tried, mixed in with more of what looked to be antiques, this time, of the medical variety. Several framed diplomas flanked a cheerfully burning fireplace on the far wall. His first impulse was to saunter over to inspect them. Not wanting to offend her before he had a chance to speak, he sat in the overstuffed chair that was before the desk and waited while the doctor claimed her chair.

“So, Dean, why don’t you tell me what happened to Sam? I can’t think of any other reason why you would be contacting me. Add to that the fact that I haven’t heard from Sam in months, and I would guess we have a very serious problem.” Magnus’ tone was matter-of-fact, but her probing gaze that told Dean it would be a very bad idea to attempt to lie outright. Even if the woman specialized in the unexplainable, it didn’t make it any more likely that his story would be believed. Maybe coming here had been a bad idea after all, he reflected. Now that he was here, he had absolutely no idea how to frame even a simple request for information. Maybe his request wasn’t the best starting point. 

Taking a deep breath, Dean reminded himself that even if he came off looking like a lunatic, it was worth it to find Sam. “Look, you’re right. Something has happened to Sam,” he admitted. “But before I can even try to explain it to you, I was hoping you might be able to tell me a little bit about what it is you do here. What happened isn’t exactly a story I can tell to,” he paused, searching for a word he could use without screwing this up, “Well, nearly anybody. If you aren’t going to be able to take me seriously, then I don’t see the point to wasting your time or mine.” The thought of leaving empty handed made him break out in a cold sweat, so he was quite proud of how calm he managed to sound.

Sizing up the man across from her, Helen would have smiled if the situation weren’t so serious. Dean so perfectly matched his brother’s description that she felt as if she knew him, at least somewhat. After only a few seconds to think it over, she decided she was going to have to go against protocol in this case. Normally, she wouldn’t divulge anything about what the Sanctuary, other than the official line. This was different. Whatever had happened to Sam, she was going to help. In order to do that, she had to convince Dean that she could not only be trusted, but also be useful. 

Given the depth of his skepticism, that was going to be easier said than done. Even though he dealt with what he considered supernatural beings every day, his view of such creatures was very black and white, and he wasn’t likely going to find exposure to her world and all that it entailed a comfortable experience. Still, he would grow as a person, and that was always a positive, no matter what the circumstances. 

“Much of our work here involves protecting those who would never be accepted in the outside world,” she began, unconcerned that he was watching her so closely. “Before I explain my work to you, I should tell you that I know you and your brother are hunters, and I am fully aware of most of the creatures who are your usual targets.” When Dean would have interjected, Helen held up a hand to forestall his question, having already guessed what it would be. “I was aware of hunters as a group before I met your brother while he was attending university. With that information and some clues from his actions, it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together.”

Well, so far the woman was confirming what he had already managed to guess for himself. The real issue wasn’t whether or not she was up on all her latest monster lore, but whether or not her knowledge extended to angels and demons. If not, she was still just as likely to want to lock him away in this Sanctuary of hers as believe him. Sam seemed to think her contacts were extensive. Telling her had to be worth a shot. 

Most people tended to think of heaven and hell as subjective concepts, until they had been there. Helen Magnus didn’t seem to be like most people. “Alright, that makes things easier then. I don’t have to explain about things that go bump in the night because you already know monsters are real,” he told her, pausing when it looked like she wanted to argue, but she gestured at him to continue. “The thing is, it wasn’t a monster that took Sam, not exactly.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, Magnus leaned forward in her chair. “What does that mean, not exactly?” she asked him.

Rather than answer her directly, Dean cut to the chase. “What do you know about angels or demons?” Careful to keep his tone even, he watched closely for her reaction but she only looked at him calmly.

“I assume you don’t mean the mythological constructs, but the real thing. I will have to admit to only a limited knowledge of demons, and none on angels, though I assume by your question that they are real as well.” 

Uncertain he had heard her correctly, Dean had to ask, “You mean you’re actually going to sit there and tell me you’re just willing to take my word for it that angels and demons exist?”

Rather than anger, frustration, or even fear, Magnus seemed more amused by his revelation than anything. “Why don’t we dispense with the obligatory phase of disbelief and get back to the business at hand. I’ll hypothesize you are telling the truth; you can prove it to me later. Now, tell me what happened to Sam.” It was a command, and this was a woman who expected her commands to be obeyed. Since it was in his best interests to do so, Dean opened his mouth to answer but before he could get a word out, the doors to the office opened and two men paused in the doorway, mid-argument. 

“We still need more information before we can start drawing conclusions,” the first one was insisting. Fairly tall and slender, he had trendy looking glasses and short, dark hair that was going every which way, likely from having fingers run through it repeatedly. 

“Yeah, that part I agree with,” the other was shorter and stockier, his well worn T-shirt and jeans were just this side of ragged, and he was frustrated. “But the fact that we need more information proves my point. There’s more going on here than we know about and we should at least think about asking outside the Sanctuary network to find out of anyone else has been keeping an eye on them.”

“Right, because we _want_ whoever is back in charge of them to know we’re looking,” the first one retorted as they came all the way into the office.

Before the argument could continue, Magnus spoke just loud enough to talk over both of them. “Gentleman, as important as I am sure your current disagreement is, I would very much appreciate it if you could continue it elsewhere, without my input for the moment. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied.” Her words brought both of them up short. Dean resisted the urge to smile at the identical looks of guilt they both wore at the reprimand. After letting them squirm for a moment, Magnus took pity and smiled slightly at both of them. “This is Dr. Will Zimmerman,” she nodded at the taller, bookish looking guy Dean would have pegged as the academic type. “Among other things, Will is the psychiatrist here at the Sanctuary. The gentleman with him is Henry Foss, our resident tech expert.” 

As Helen gave his name to the men, Dean shifted in his chair to nod at both of them. When he made eye contact with Henry, he was rewarded with a slightly sheepish smile. But when he looked directly at the shrink, well that’s when things got a little bit awkward, and he hadn’t even made it to his explanation of what happened to Sam yet. All he did was say hello, but Will had gone chalk white and was staring at him like he had seen a ghost. Hell, if Dean hadn’t known better, he would have almost thought he was one. This had to be some kind of new record. Not even five minutes in the other man’s company, and already he was weirding him out.

***

Guests were nothing new at the sanctuary. Will remembered several of Magnus’ contacts had mentioned a young man had been looking for her. She hadn’t had a name, because whoever he was, he was smart enough to use aliases. Even the introduction hadn’t rung a bell for him. But looking at the stranger for more than a handful of heartbeats made the other voices in the room fade away, though he noted with a detached corner of his mind that they were all still talking.

It was the man from his dream, the one left alone. It didn’t make any sense. A dream couldn’t possibly be sitting in Magnus’ office, wearing a charming smile. Knowing everyone was expecting a certain reaction from him, Will took a deep breath and tried to calm down. 

Obviously, he was mistaken; lack of sleep and stress had conspired against him, that was all. Still, the more he looked, the greater the sense of familiarity pulled at him. With an effort, he managed not to tremble, and stepped forward to offer his hand. “Nice to meet you. Please, call me Will.” He hoped he sounded normal. The loudest sound in the room was the thud of his heartbeat in his ears. He managed to shake hands and exchange a few more pleasantries without anyone noticing his distress. 

Dean was starting to get a little uncomfortable. Considering his tolerance for weird, that was saying something. Though he was trying to act blasé, the doctor was getting more and more worked up the longer he looked at Dean. Dean couldn’t remember the man, or his name, ever being part of a job. 

Both Helen and Henry were looking concerned at the reaction Will was having, so he knew he wasn’t just imagining it. That just left the question of what to do about it. He considered letting it slide, but that really wouldn’t help. There was no telling how long it was going to take to get the help he needed, and he really didn’t like the idea of having to deal with man’s creeped-out vibes the whole time.

While Dean was trying to figure things out, he listened to Magnus attempt to move others alongby explaining that Dean was there to discuss a sensitive personal matter regarding his brother Sam. 

The knowledge that Dean was Sam’s brother had Will’s pulse jumping all over again, as he felt himself start to tremble again, despite his best efforts. The dreams had featured two men, and he was sure they were family somehow. Now one of them appears out of nowhere and he has a brother, who just happens to know Magnus. That was just too far past the bounds of coincidence. Rather than receding, the room seemed to come into hyper focus, overly loud, too intense. 

“Okay, that’s it,” Dean exclaimed. “You keep staring at me, and acting like I slept with your girlfriend of something.” He didn’t stand up, fearing if he did the spooked psychologist would outright bolt, ruining his chance to talk to Magnus about Sam. He turned to the woman, hoping she could get the shrink sorted out. “What gives? Is this just part of the package deal around here, you see if you can freak out everyone who comes poking around?”

Shaking his head, Will tried to recover his composure, not wanting to embarrass himself further. “No, we don’t and it isn’t. I’m sorry,” he apologized, upset at the thought that he had lost control, no matter what the cause. “I’ve had some stuff happen lately that you wouldn’t believe if I told you,” he explained. “I guess it shook me more than I thought, and you look a lot like someone I thought I knew.” The explanation was true enough. It would make his friends curious, but they would just have to live with it. 

While he was willing to consider the idea that he had dreamed of a man he had never met, did not mean he was going to talk about it with anyone. A tiny voice in the back of his mind tried to suggest that maybe he should say something, but he ignored it. There was no reason to worry anyone until he knew if there was anything to worry about. For all he knew, it was just something that happened when you died and then came back again. Even if he had dreamt of Dean, that didn’t make him dangerous. Will would wait, and watch the other man to see what happened. If he ended up having to tell anyone about the dreams it would be for a damned good reason. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.

***

Though Will’s behavior was concerning, Helen kept her face carefully neutral as he made his apologies to Dean and followed Henry out of the room. When Henry met her eyes on his way out, obviously worried, she gave the minutest shake of her head. Whatever was bothering Will, if he genuinely thought they needed to know, he would have told them. In the meantime, she had quite enough to deal with. “I apologize for the interruption and the awkwardness,” she told Dean. “As Will said, he was recently put through some very traumatic experiences, and I think he must still be a little shaken.” Careful to be sure that Dean understood that the trauma hadn’t been Will’s fault, she nonetheless kept the statement generic enough to protect his privacy.

“Okay,” he accepted the statement at face value, even though he had an idea of how much more complicated the situation probably was, he didn’t need to look at his own trauma. “Where were we?” he asked.

Magnus nodded at him. “You were telling me what happened to Sam,” she prompted. 

Dean took a deep breath, and decided to just plunge right in. “He’s missing, but it’s complicated. He wasn’t kidnapped or anything. There’s this war between the angels of heaven and the assorted demons of hell. The angels are dicks, and not helpful when you need them. But the demons are worse. Sam and I were both pretty directly involved in starting an apocalypse. When it came right down to it, he thought he had to jump down into the Pit to make sure that Lucifer would stay in the cage he needed to be in.” Everything was said in a rush, because once he got going it poured out of him.

To her credit, Magnus didn’t look overly shocked by what he was saying, though her eyebrows rose. “I assume you think that is a complete explanation, but I can assure you that isn’t the case. We’ll set that aside for now. You’re telling me that Sam is in Hell, Dean. He isn’t missing, he’s dead. No matter where he ended up after that, I am not sure what kind of help you think I can give you.” He could see the sympathy on her face.

“That’s the problem, doc. I don’t know if he’s technically dead or alive. I don’t know where he is in terms of afterlife, but it doesn’t matter. Trust me, no part of hell qualifies as somewhere you want to visit.” His tone went bleak, and Dean knew his eyes were flat and empty, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m not an idiot. I know I might not be able to get him back, but I still have to try.” And now came the part that was hard to admit. “I tried everything, every lead I could find, but the legit information about all the different levels of hell is a little sparse. I hit dead ends with everything that I could find, and the same with every one of my go-to guys for information.” 

He watched as Magnus paused for a moment, he hoped she wouldn’t call in the men in white suits. “So you’re hoping to take advantage of the Sanctuary network, in the hopes of uncovering new information. I see your point. Unfortunately, we generally run towards large volumes of information about abnormals, but less about the paranormal or occult.”

Feeling despair welling up inside him again, Dean nodded. “Okay, well it was a long shot. I had to at least ask,” he told her, hiding the hopeless feeling as best as he could manage.

Helen shook her head. “I didn’t say I couldn’t help you. I simply wanted you to understand that I may not be able to help you. I will try. We will see what our intelligence has to say on the subject, and I will check with some contacts of my own outside the Sanctuary network. In the meantime, we have very comfortable guest suites. The weather is horrendous and you look exhausted. You are also favoring your right shoulder; my guess would be a recent injury aggravated by your travels.” Her voice returned to the tone of command. “If you wish my help, I insist you stay here and rest and recuperate while my people and I see what we can find out.”

Staying hadn’t been on the agenda, no matter how implacable the lady seemed to be. Before she was even finished speaking, Dean was shaking his head. “I’m sure there’s a decent hotel around here. I appreciate the offer, but I’d be more comfortable in my own space.”

Dean bristled when she burst out laughing. “Oh, I am sorry Dean. I don’t mean to laugh at you, but really if having your own space is your only concern, believe me when I tell you, I can make sure you have plenty of that. In fact, if you really want me to, I can put you in a whole wing all by yourself. I can promise that our quarters are cleaner and better appointed than anything you will find in a motel.” She paused and smiled warmly at him. “And besides, since I am well aware of what your particular job entails, you don’t have to worry about hiding the tools of the trade. How many motels can you say that about?”

The lady made a good point, Dean had to admit. But that only raised another question. “So you don’t care if I have to make some slight modifications in your guest quarters then? Nothing personal, but in my experience, even the most security conscience people have some holes then their defense.”

“I want you to be comfortable here. You may make any changes that are necessary for you to feel safe. I would prefer there was no permanent damage though.” A tinge of apprehension crept into her voice as she gave his rough clothing another appraisal. 

“Alright, then you’ve got yourself a houseguest,” Dean agreed, grinning at her discomfort. It made more sense to stay close to the centre of things anyway, and the good doctor had made very valid points. It never hurt to try and gather more information. He got the feeling that no one got so much as a syllable out of Helen Magnus that she didn’t want to share, but it didn’t mean the same was true for all of her colleagues. “And I promise not to cause any permanent damage,” he assured her.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Helen Magnus’ Personal Residence  
1:14 am

Helen waited until all her administrative tasks were done for the day to curl up with a phone in one of the more modern but comfortable chairs in her sitting room. The day had been long enough that she was certain if she had a seat in her bedroom she would fall asleep, so this was her attempt at a compromise. She’d remembered to hunt up the phone number she needed before she settled into her comfortable perch. Stifling a yawn, she picked up the handset to dial, then waited while it rang with the slightly distant quality of an overseas call. “Thank you for calling the ICWS. How may I direct your call?” asked the cheerful female who answered.

“I’d very much like to speak to Rupert Giles please. It’s Helen Magnus calling,” she replied quietly, unsurprised when she was put on hold after only a moment. The hold music was tolerable at least, classical at a well modulated volume. There was a soft click, which told her that the call had been transferred, then a familiar voice sounded in her ear.

“Helen, my dear, it has been far too long. Much as I would love to play catch up, I have a feeling that this is not a social call. In fact, I was going to be calling you within the next few days, but I’m sure we’ll get to that. How can I help?”

“It’s nice to hear your voice as well, Rupert. But you’re right. I’m afraid this isn’t a social call.” She outlined the details Dean had given her about Sam’s ordeal, and her own suspicions on the matter. Once she’d covered all the pertinent details, she got down to the real reason for her call. “All things considered, I feel more than a little out of my depth. I am not expert on angels, demons, or any of the occult. That was always your department. I know you must be busy setting up your new infrastructure, but when I realized what I was dealing with, I had to call.” She didn’t give him time to answer with pleasantries.

“Can you look into your library, or have someone you trust do so and see what you can come up with, old friend? I can’t tell you why exactly, but something tells me this boy is important, and I’d hate to see him lost if there is anything I can do about it. There have been enough people sacrificed on both sides of the ocean in the last few years.” Shaking off her suddenly somber tone, Helen quietly laughed at herself. “Listen to me, I must need more sleep than I thought,” she half apologized.

There was a pause on the other end of the line, but that didn’t worry her. Rupert rarely did anything without thinking it through completely, and she had just dropped a lot of information neatly in his lap.

“I know just the person to have look into this. She’s a genius with a computer and quite nearly one of the best researchers I’ve ever known,” Rupert answered. “And as for busy, I am never too busy for you, my dear, as trite as that may sound. Things are going well setting up local headquarters for all of the Slayers. We had some bumps in the road establishing the school that is the lynchpin of our new training program, but things have smoothed out recently, so I am sure Willow won’t mind devoting some time to your particular problem. I assume the time frame is as soon as possible?” he asked.

“Even sooner than that, if you can manage it,” Helen answered, feeling a bit lighter now that an expert was on the case, even if he was a bit far flung. With her problem dealt with for now, her mind turned to the earlier portion of the conversation. “Now what was that you were saying about calling me?”

Another slight pause, this one with a hesitation she might not have noticed if she hadn’t been paying attention. “Well, as much as I would prefer not to reopen a painful subject, I was actually planning on calling to tell you that it seems there has been a great deal of activity from your former Cabal. They don’t seem as former as you might like,” Though he was careful to keep his tone modulated, Helen knew Rupert was unhappy to be the bearer of bad tidings.

“Yes, I know,” Though she hadn’t declared the war on them that John had, she had every bit of the hatred he did for the organization that had stolen her daughter and been responsible for her death, even if they hadn’t done the deed themselves. The thought of them rebuilding in any capacity made her feel angry and sick at the same time, and her shoulders knotted with tension. “It seems Henry and Will noticed much the same thing from the pattern of financial activity,” she explained.

“I’m afraid I have to tell you that the resurgence of the Cabal isn’t quite that simple. Most of that financial activity you mentioned seems to be coming from one place, but it isn’t any of the usual channels, Helen. From what we can tell, all of the relevant businesses have backers from the demon world. We haven’t been able to ascertain if they are all unified under one high level demon or not, but the connections are very definitely in place, regardless of who is pulling the strings.” 

All Helen could do was blink. Of the possibilities that had come to mind, this was one had not occurred to her. As her mind caught up with the implications of what she had been told, she went cold all over. “I won’t bother asking if you are sure, because I know you too well. I don’t like any of the scenarios that leads to though,” she said unhappily. “More to the point, I suddenly find it rather too coincidental that I have a demon hunter in residence when we most need information about demons,” she confided.

“I would question the timing as well,” Rupert agreed. “So long as you keep your guard up, the young man could be a valuable source of information. Historically speaking, when Hunters aided Slayers, the outcomes were very positive. Perhaps the same can be said for you.” Despite his assertion though, the older Englishman paused, and the slightest thread of tension roughened his voice for the first time. “Be careful, no matter what you decide to tell the boy. I’d hate to see anything happen to you, after all this time,” he told her.

The caution brought a slight smile to her face, and Helen hastened to reassure him. “I’m always careful, especially around volatile young men. I promise to take all the recommended precautions against demons too, once I know what they are.” They talked for a few more minutes, and Helen secured his promise that he would call her the minute he had any information that would shed any light on Sam’s situation or the Cabal’s ongoing activities. 

Once they had hung up, she prepared for bed on auto pilot, while contemplating the best way to approach the now changed situation. She had planned to limit Dean’s access to the real work of the Sanctuary until she knew whether they could help him or not. Caution was simply too much a part of her work life to dictate otherwise. Knowing there would be things he knew she needed to learn, it seemed only fair that the exchange of information be more equal. It was only a matter of moving up the time table. Decision made, she slid into bed, making herself comfortable under her blankets and adjusting her pillow to the proper position so she could fall asleep.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Main Kitchen  
7:21 am

Waking up in such a richly appointed room was a bit jarring, Dean had to admit. It definitely wasn’t a room for laying around in, not that he was prone to it anyway. He had managed some solid sleep rather than a nightmare, so at least he could get out of bed with some energy. Though the bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of the room, he opted for a short shower, and dressed quickly. He wasn’t certain what the day would bring, but whatever it was, sooner was better than later. If the food matched the rest of the place, he owed it to his stomach to get moving. He half expected the door to be locked, but it turned easily. He headed down the hall, hoping he would be able to follow his nose to food. 

He’d only been walking for a few minutes when he struck gold, or maybe better: he smelled bacon frying. Dean couldn’t help but grin. 

Out of habit, he was quietly padding down the hallway, letting the ambient noise cover his foot falls. Before he cleared the door, a gruff voice called out, “Good morning.” Dean paused and looked around for cameras as the voice continued, “Breakfast will be ready shortly. Magnus has asked that you be given a tour of our facility this morning. Kate will be here soon to be your tour guide.” The voice was pitched lower than he was used to, and had odd emphasis. Unable to spot any eyes in the sky, Dean mentally shrugged and moved in to the kitchen to take a seat at the large table. 

“Good to know,” he replied, leaning back in his chair. He was doing his best to just blend into the background and not make any waves, but even his nonchalance had limits. When he looked up, it was all he could do not to stare. The breakfast chef had turned to look at him directly, gaze calm and assessing but his gaze wasn’t what had caught Dean’s attention. 

The sheer amount of hair on his face was a little startling, but paired with the Neanderthal cast to his features, he looked more like he belonged in a cave with a club somewhere than dressed in a neatly pressed suit, with an immaculately white apron over it. He didn’t offer his name, or otherwise add to the conversation, which gave Dean a moment to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t stayed alive this long without learning to roll with the punches. He filed the odd man under things to find out about and left it at that, being careful to turn his attention to the fixtures in the room. Whoever the cook was, this was his home, his turf, and somehow he didn’t seem the type to enjoy being turned into a zoo exhibit. 

He couldn’t help hoping Kate would be there soon. Whatever tall, dark and furry’s deal was, he didn’t seem thrilled about Dean’s presence. He had a sixth sense for people who disliked him, and the guy in the apron was setting it off in spades. Dean made a note to try to win him over. People who kept their mouths shut learned a lot from those who didn’t.

When Kate made her way to the kitchen, the big guy handed her a cup of coffee without trying to talk to her, so Dean figured she wasn’t big on mornings. With the ease of long practice, he kept his mouth shut and demolished a tasty breakfast. As they were finishing, Henry and Will wandered in. They were more awake than Kate, but not by much, though they managed to mutter thanks to the chef, who merely nodded at both of them. 

When Kate announced that she would be taking Dean on the full tour, whatever that was, everyone perked up. Will’s eyes only widened slightly, and he covered quickly, but Henry was anything but subtle, doing a double take at his female colleague. For her part, Kate only nodded slightly at them, and led the way out of the kitchen, without bothering to check if Dean was following her. After everything he’d seen in the last few years, he would have thought the Sanctuary couldn’t surprise him, but that had been before breakfast, and now he really didn’t know what to expect.

“Wait.” It was the chef again, who still hadn’t bothered to introduce himself. He hadn’t moved, and wasn’t presenting himself as a threat, but something in his voice immediately stopped Dean in his tracks. “I know what you are, boy,” he began, a carefully controlled anger simmering under the words. “Those that are here are under our protection. That means you keep your Hunter instincts –and your weapons—under control.” The threat was veiled, if only barely, but Dean nodded.

“Duly noted,” he answered as respectfully as he could manage, given that he had no idea why the other man disliked him, and he never had taken threats well. Even as they tried to avoid notice, it was clear that both Henry and Will were wondering what the conversation was about. Dean ignored their curiosity and followed Kate out of the room. There was no way for him to control what the other man had to say about hunters, and he wasn’t planning on knowing these people long enough for it to matter.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Main Computer Laboratory  
8:37 am

Dean was still following Kate, only this time it was back into a room dominated by large tables, with a row of desks with several computers and the equipment that came with them. As they walked in, Henry straightened up from a table in the corner and smiled at both of them. “So Kate, how did things go?”

Resting a hip against the corner of a table, Kate smiled at the shorter tech. “Oh, he did alright,” she admitted grudgingly, but turning so that Dean could see that she was still smiling. Listening to the banter with one part of his mind, Dean concentrated on presenting a calm front. 

Mermaids, two-faced men, flying fairies with dirty mouths, and over-sexed furbies were just the beginning. Kate had explained that some of the residents were here because they chose to withdraw from a world that didn’t have a place for them. Others were contained because they were simply too dangerous to be allowed to roam free. Having seen the fire elemental and the oversized cross between a dinosaur and a cheetah, to say nothing of the huge lizard man, Dean could definitely believe that, but his head was spinning. 

Now the warning from the odd primate chef made sense, because all of his training as a Hunter was definitely screaming at him. With an effort, he was keeping his impulses in check, but no matter what this place had as a mandate, the warrior in him wanted to put some of the residents down. It wasn’t that he enjoyed killing, but he didn’t see how some of things could be guaranteed to remain contained, no matter how many good intentions were involved.

“I was just about to explain to Dean how we keep everybody comfy cozy and make sure they all play nice,” Kate told Henry, with a sideways glance at Dean that acknowledged his basic dilemma. “But then I thought since the security protocols were your baby, you might not mind playing professor.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Henry agreed, still eyeing Dean, trying to gauge his reactions to the residents. With a passion that showed both that he was a true geek and that he loved his job, Henry explained the worldwide network of Sanctuary houses, and how they had all collaborated to create a set of security protocols, supported by some impressive technology. His mini-lecture touched on an electro-magnetic shield, sophisticated back-up generators, motion and heat sensors, and a computer network to monitor it all that was so smart it seemed about a half step from developing intelligence of its own. He downplayed his own role in it all, but while he was talking Dean got the distinct impression that Henry could give Sam a run for his money for king of geekdom. 

It wasn’t his thing, but he could respect the skills it took. While one part of his mind was cataloging what the shorter man had to say, another part was wondering what the egghead was doing here. The guy was smart enough to be working for NASA or something, not to mention, other than the geek quotient, he seemed so normal. Giving himself a mental shake, he tabled the curiosity, and tuned back into the conversation. There would be time enough to wonder about things in private.

***

Once Henry had finished his explanation of how everything and everyone was kept in their place, Kate explained that Helen had called a staff meeting for whenever the tour ended. Dean assumed that meant he would be left on his own, at loose ends. She went on to explain that the lady of the house had specifically asked that he attend, so he trailed along behind them to the room he assumed was the library, given the floor to ceiling bookshelves that dominated the room. The tour hadn’t included the tamer areas on the estate. Given the sheer size of the complex, it made sense that the self explanatory rooms were left out.

Taking his place in a comfortably overstuffed chair, Dean resisted the urge to tip the chair back while he waited to see who would show up. Henry, Will, Kate, Helen and a man he didn’t know had trickled in and were gathered around the table, being served tea by the man who had cooked breakfast. Dean was surprised to find he made an excellent cup of coffee, no matter what his anger issues were. From what Dean could tell, he seemed to be some kind of butler or something. Who knew people even still had those?

Once everyone had drinks, the butler took a seat beside Henry rather than leaving, which was interesting, but not really worth focusing on once Helen started to speak. “I am not sure if we are all on the same page in terms of the current situation, which is why I called this meeting. Why Mr. Winchester is in attendance will be explained to you once we are all caught up. Dean,” she continued, looking at him directly for the first time, “the man here that you haven’t been introduced to is Nikola Tesla, an associate of mine who may be able to help us with the current situation.” Nodding in acknowledgement of the introduction, Dean tried to ignore the alarm bells Nikola was setting off in the back of his mind as Helen continued. “I know all of you are all too aware of what the Cabal is capable of. What you may or may not know is that their current resurgence has connections to a portion of evil the Sanctuary network has never had to deal with directly before.” Here she paused, looking almost hesitant, but her voice was calm and sure when she continued. 

“It seems there is no limit to what they will stoop to in order to rebuild, and as such, they have found backing within the demon community.” It was a straightforward statement followed by a lull, but Dean didn’t think there would be a long wait before the denials and he tipped his chair back to watch the fireworks. 

“You can’t be serious.” Kate didn’t raise her voice, but the profound skepticism in her tone came through nonetheless.

“I assure you, when it comes to the Cabal, I am never anything but deadly serious, and I meant what I said,” Helen answered.

“Look, I understand you mean what you say, but Magnus, demons are just a myth, a legend spun by various societies that needed a boogeyman,” Henry interjected, looking upset to be going against the boss he idolized, but doing it anyway. The man had more balls than Dean had given him credit for. Will hadn’t chimed in yet, but rather than looking like he wanted to comment, he had turned pale and was staring at Dean like he was waiting for him to speak. That was odd, but then, the young doctor had been acting oddly from the get go. Dean gave him a smile full of teeth, just to watch the man sweat.

“Henry, after working for me this long, you should know there is more to this world than most people can imagine. How many suburbanites would say the same thing about werewolves being fairy stories?” Helen answered, with enough of an edge to her tone that Dean ticked off his question to what Henry’s flavor of difference might be. It was a little disconcerting, because the guy didn’t come off as a werewolf, but that was a question for a different day. Somehow, he was under control, or he would be in one of the enclosures. 

Before Magnus could continue, Dean let his chair come down with a thud that drew everyone’s attention. “I know that you people don’t know me, so you don’t know whether I would lie to you or not. Believe me when I say I have good reasons to tell the truth. I can tell you demons are very definitely real.” Pausing for breath, he raised his voice and rolled over the beginnings of protests. “I’ve spent my life hunting different nasties, but what I have hunted most often are demons. I’ve gone up against a lot of them and I’m still walking around breathing air, so I guess you could say I won. But it wasn’t easy. I’ve lost people, people who mattered to me.” He wouldn’t think of Sam, or anyone else. He couldn’t or he’d lose all credibility. 

“So, feel free to tell me that demons wouldn’t have a reason to take up with big business or that there is some other reason they aren’t mixed up in your current mess, but don’t tell me demons aren’t real.” He was breathing a little harder than he intended, but he hoped the harshness of his tone would be chalked up to trying his hardest to convince them.

For a heartbeat or two no one said anything. Henry looked worried. Kate seemed more angry than anything else. Will he couldn’t read. Nikola looked disturbingly intrigued, which said a lot about the kinds of things that made him tick. There was a surprising break to the silence. 

“The boy is right,” said the butler. He didn’t sound happy to be agreeing, but he did it anyway. “Demons are real. My people have seen them, dealt with them, as best they could. Much as I hate to say it, we need to know what he knows about such creatures, if we want to understand the Cabal and what they are moving to do now.”

“For the sake of saving time, even if you all don’t completely believe it now, will you concede I would not lie to you?” Helen asked. After a moment, everyone agreed, though some more reluctantly than others, so she continued. “I asked Dean to sit in on this meeting. No matter why he came here, demons are his area of expertise. I believe he can give us all a working knowledge of what we are up against, so that we can formulate a plan of action.” It was phrased as a polite request, but what else was he expecting from such a proper English woman? He wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse. Even if he wanted to, what was left of his own conscience wouldn’t let him send them into a demon fight blind. There was already more than enough blood on his hands.

“Okay then. The first thing you need to know about is salt,” he began.

“And what good is a table condiment, exactly?” The lazy drawl had definite bite to it, but that was fine. Tesla had stayed quiet until now, but apparently felt the need to add some testosterone to the room. Then again, learning the monsters under your bed were real was never easy, Dean supposed. 

“Quite a lot of good actually,” he replied, refusing to rise to the bait. “A salt line will protect you from demons, no matter where they are on the totem pole, so long as you aren’t stupid enough to break it, or let someone else break it. Speaking of other people, demons can take over a body and wear a person like you would wear a new suit, so once I’ve covered all the ways to tell if a person is possessed or not, please don’t forget,” he urged them. It was all a lot to take in, but he was just getting started, so they might as well adjust to the hardest parts first.

***

International Council of Watchers and Slayers  
London Branch  
Willow Rosenberg’s Office  
5:05 pm

No matter what the content was, a new research project always made Willow feel better. Well, maybe not if she was researching why bunches of people died horribly, but this wasn’t about deaths, at least not yet. The research divisions on all continents had standing orders to keep an eye out for large scale demonic activity, and had tagged the Cabal months ago. The problem was going through all the raw data while trying to determine which demon, or demons, happened to be pulling the strings. So far they hadn’t come up with a name. But the rumors about what they were up to didn’t look good. 

The research was a welcome distraction for the petty office squabbles she’d been dealing with for most of the day. Buffy and Giles had left early in the morning to deal with some Slayer related emergency in Scotland. Tanya, the lead Slayer assigned there, had been killed and the rest of her squad were badly injured. 

With the two of them away, Andrew decided to air all of his complaints, which meant everyone else in the sprawling mansion converted to offices was about ready to kill him. Willow had locked herself in the office and given the girls orders to sort it out with him. Hurting him a little bit wasn’t outside the realm of possibility, but they weren’t allowed to kill him. Other than that, she didn’t want to hear about it.

Muttering to herself about the next set of possible higher level demons to check, Willow almost didn’t hear the incoming email. When she clicked over to the appropriate tab, a small smile crossed her face. This informant was definitely worth listening to. Spike had gone to see what he could find out two days ago, and this was the first time he’d bothered to check in. His news wasn’t good. By the time she was finished reading, Willow couldn’t decide between being angry or scared. Dashing off a quick email to Giles, she pushed back from the computer and went looking for Deena, a newish arrival, who until recently had been training with Xander in the States. “Deena, I’m going to have to leave, so I’m putting you in charge until Giles gets back. He told me he would be busy for at least two days. I’m not sure if he and Buffy were coming straight back here on not, though. Don’t make any major decisions unless you check with Xander or Faith. Make sure you keep up the current training and patrol schedules. And tell Buffy and Giles I’ll check in with them as soon as I can.” Her tone didn’t allow for disagreement, and even as she talked she was cataloguing what else needed to be done before she could leave. 

To her credit, Deena didn’t waste time asking questions or arguing, only nodded calmly. “Gotcha. Is this a Slayer related problem? ‘Cause if it is, I need to put some of the girls on alert.”

Shaking her head, Willow took a second to switch gears to be reassuring. “No, this is something else that Giles put me on. I just need to make sure it gets dealt with properly, so I’ll need to be out of touch for a little while.” There was no way to tell exactly how long it was going to take to explain the situation to Giles’ friend, so she purposely left her time frame vague. Once Deena had headed back the way she came, presumably to let the rest of the girls know about the change in upcoming plans, Willow walked very quickly back to her office. She didn’t run, because she didn’t want to panic anyone who saw her, but it was very close. That was the trouble with having the office and the residences in the same building. Everyone was constantly underfoot, and when something big happened, unless you were very careful, everyone knew about it almost immediately. This wasn’t council business though, so she owed it to the other people involved to try and be discreet.

Though she had a secretary, and wasn’t that just weird, Fiona had already gone home for the day, so she dialed the number Giles had given her, and waited while the call connected. When she asked for Helen Magnus, she ended up on hold again, but it was only for a minute or two, which was something. 

“This is Magnus,” a well modulated English voice announced.

“Hi, this is Willow Rosenberg calling. I got your number from Giles. He asked me to look into the demonic activity linked to the Cabal for you,” Willow explained, being sure to keep her growing sense of dread out of her voice. Now that she was talking the other woman, alarm bells were ringing in the back of her mind. Whatever the big picture was, it wasn’t good, and judging by how much it was affecting her, it was more important than she thought. “I’m calling because I think I know what they are up to, and it isn’t good,” she explained. When it came to bad news, simple was better.

“Yes, of course, Willow, thank you for getting back to us so quickly. What exactly have you found out?” Magnus asked.

“Well, from what our sources can tell, the Cabal hasn’t found one demon backer, they’ve found several, and they are way high up on the food chain. These are major players, and what’s worse, they’ve positioned foot soldiers at every level and location of the corporate structure. That’s the sort of thing you don’t do unless you are gearing up for a major battle.” Much as she hated to be so negative, it was important the other woman understand the implications.

There was a sigh, and then a slight pause. “Well, they already declared war on us once,” Magnus agreed. “It seems they plan on doing it again.”

“I wish I could disagree with you,” Willow told her sincerely. “There’s more.” She paused, questioning her decision for a moment, but her gut told her it was the right thing. “I think it would be best if we discussed this in person.” There was another pause, and Magnus began what sounded like a carefully prepared, very polite brush off, but Willow broke in before she could get anywhere. “Look, I know you do some fairly top-secret stuff there. Giles gave me the run down without the details before he left. And believe me, I will keep my mouth shut. I know about keeping important secrets. I’ve been doing it since high school, but you need to hear what else I know and you need to hear it, and it really isn’t wise to discuss some things over the phone.”

“Well, I defer to your judgment that we need to hear it,” Magnus reluctantly agreed. “But if you’re right, then shouldn’t you tell me now, rather than making me wait however many hours it’s going to take you to get here?”

Resisting the urge to giggle, Willow pictured the layout of Magnus’ office that Giles had described to her, and shook her head. “As long as you trust me enough on Giles’ say so to deactivate all of your external entry security protocols for a second, it won’t take nearly as long as you think.”

For the first time, the serious tone of the conversation lightened, and Magnus sounded genuinely curious when she spoke. “I suppose I do. When would you want us to do so?” 

“How does right now suit you?” Willow replied, picking up the overnight bag she kept in the office for just such contingencies. Her laptop didn’t handle this kind of travel well, but she was sure she’d be able to access the information she needed from pretty much anywhere.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Magnus was saying, cautious, but still polite. “But in the interests of satisfying a curiosity, give me a moment.” There was a soft click, as she set the phone down, and then her voice was back in Willow’s ear. “I’ve allowed for a very short window, as that’s all that is safe for us to do,” she explained, but a heartbeat later the dial tone sounded in her ear because Willow had hung up and initiated the easiest of the teleportation spells in her repertoire. 

“That’s alright,” Willow told her, from just inside the door to her office. I travel fast and light.”  
Other than a slight widening of her eyes, Helen Magnus was remarkably calm about having a girl she’d never met popping up under her nose. She supposed anyone with the background it sounded like Magnus had would be fast on their feet with surprises. 

“Well, I must say, you certainly are efficient,” the older woman said, after only the slightest of pauses.

“Thanks,” Willow replied, coming over to shake hands. “I’d love to say I’d heard a lot about you but Giles was sparse with the details.” Giving her head a tiny shake, she refocused on the point behind her impromptu visit. “So do you want me to fill you in now, or are there other people who are on the need to know list?”

“Well, now that you’re here, it’s probably best I gather everyone so you only have to tell us once,” Magnus decided. “Let’s go down to the library and I’ll have everyone meet us there.” 

The good doctor was efficient herself. While Willow wondered idly about her medical specialty after noticing the diplomas in her office, they went down to a library that made her drool. As she was coveting the stacks, they were seated around an antique wooden table with a group Magnus had introduced as her friends: Will, Henry, Kate, and Big Foot, which she assumed was a nickname. There was also and an associate by the name of Tesla, and a younger guy named Dean with a bad boy air she kinda liked. Once Magnus had explained why she was there, though conveniently not how she’d arrived, Willow quit trying to link the names to the faces and got down to business.

“I won’t bother going back over the steps we took to figure all this out, though I can explain later if anyone is interested. The important point is that the Cabal activity paired up with the demon activity all paints a picture of a bunch of really big evil gearing up to do some really bad things,” she started. “And the icing on their likely very disgusting cake is that they aren’t just recruiting the Cabal and their people, or just low level demons. They’re conscripting, but with a twist. The last of our people to check in said he got wind of a major operation that they are planning. If they’re successful, they’re pulling all the souls out of Purgatory to help do their dirty work for them, too.” Just the thought of it made anger burn through Willow, but she was careful to control it. She’d never liked the idea of Purgatory anyway; it seemed unfair to make people live, or more precisely die, in limbo. But she wasn’t the one calling those shots, so all she could do now was hopefully prevent anyone from messing with the balance. 

Her thoughts had wandered long enough that the rest of the table was looking at her quizzically, but that could have been caused by what she was saying, too. She didn’t have time to bring them all up to speed on the relevant facts they may or may not have believed. “I know it sounds crazy, though not as crazy as some of the things I’ve had to go with over the years. This will all be a lot easier if you all just take my word for it. Magic is real, spells do work, and Heaven, Hell and Purgatory are as real as the table we are sitting at right now. They want the souls from Purgatory because if you pull someone out of there, and you have no conscience, it’s pretty easy to force them to do what you want.” She didn’t like having to rush them, but she wasn’t finished yet. “The spell I’m telling you about is set to happen in two days, which means we have slightly over a day to make sure it doesn’t happen. Or we hijack it.”

That certainly got Magnus’ attention. “We can do that?” she asked, looking at Willow intently.

Honestly compelled her to backpedal a bit. “Well, we should be able to, but that sort of thing can be tricky. It’s hard to match the exact elements for a spell at the best of times. We only have second hand information, and we can’t be sure they won’t choose a different one at the last minute. There is always the possibility that whoever they have doing the casting is strong enough to block me,” Willow explained. There was also a possibility she would start living on the moon. She didn’t want to sound like she was bragging, so she didn’t say that. “I didn’t get a chance to research the spell in detail, but I can do that from here. Once I’m familiar with it, I can tell you what we’ll need.”

With a frown, she looked down at the table top. She didn’t know these people well enough to know exactly where they stood in terms of ethics, but she had a good feeling about them. Some things still needed to be said. “A crash course in magic could take days, so I won’t bother. What you all need to know that if we do this, there will be a price, physically, emotionally, I can’t tell you exactly what it will be, but that’s one of the basic rules. Everything has a price. If you aren’t prepared to pay whatever it is to bring down the Cabal, then we shouldn’t do anything. It’s safer that way.” She could tell that they looked at her and saw the pretty face and didn’t understand that she knew what she was talking about, so she let her usual mask slip just enough to show how much she meant what she said next. “I should tell you, in case you’re getting any ideas: this spell doesn’t reach anyone who is happily in Heaven. I will not help you modify it so that it does. Trust me, it’s better that way.” The thought of what Buffy had gone through when the Scoobies pulled her out of Heaven years ago made her voice shake.

“Okay, so the spell won’t grab anyone in Heaven. I get that,” said the bad boy, whose name she was pretty sure was Dean. “But how do you know if a person is in Purgatory? If the spell will reach them, I mean.” 

There was such pain under the words that Willow wished she had a better answer. “You don’t,” she told him gently. “But you can hope, and if I were you, I would try a little praying.” He didn’t answer, but the grimace that he made told her he wasn’t likely to take her advice. Wondering who he had lost, she gave a mental shrug. She didn’t know him well enough to ask, and his loss didn’t change the answer.  
“The only reason this whole idea even works is because in the cosmic scheme of things, those who are in limbo haven’t been claimed as dead and gone yet,” Willow clarified. “Purgatory isn’t really a separate place, it’s just the label given to the place for souls who haven’t been claimed: people who died with major unfinished business, or when they weren’t supposed to, that sort of thing. It’s like being on the fringes of either Heaven or Hell. If we do things right, we claim them for our side, but I should also tell you, the price I mentioned? They’ll be paying it too. Something else you might want to think about. I mean, I wouldn’t want eternal limbo, but it might be better than the alternative. There’s just no way to know for sure until it would be too late to change your minds.”

This time it was the young psychiatrist who spoke up. “Given that the alternative involves demons, I’m pretty sure that even if you’re right, any of the people we’re talking about will be better off.” He paused, almost like he would say more, but then fell silent.

“Okay, well, I just thought I should make sure you all understood,” Willow agreed. “I’ll get started on the research I need to do,” she decided, by way of dismissing the meeting. “It shouldn’t take me long to have a game plan.” It would be weird doing research without the usual sugary snack goodness, but she would just have to make do. There hadn’t been time to stop for doughnuts.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Will Zimmerman’s Room  
6:03 pm

He’d only meant to stretch out to get the stiffness out of his back, but as his head made contact with the bed he was drifting off, sucked into sleep far faster than he would have thought possible. Everything was hazy and indistinct as he transitioned, and when it cleared he was watching from a position just inside the archway leading to the central garden courtyard. 

Everyone was there: Magnus, Big Guy, Henry, Tesla, Kate, Dean, Willow, and even himself. Watching himself seemed natural. His focus shifted, though he couldn’t have said why, and he noticed that Druitt was there, too. He seemed in control of himself. Will continued to watch, as a small corner of his mind wondered what exactly what was going on. 

As he stepped closer to better see what was going on, Willow walked up to Magnus.“We’re nearly ready. I just wanted to say, I’m sorry if him having here causes you pain,” she made a slight head tilt towards Druitt. “But, we need the people here who were part of your original involvement. If it helps, the spell is more likely to work if whoever you want to believe is in charge of such things-- god, goddess, whatever – can see that you have good reason to be granted what we’re asking.”

Though her eyes were very dark, a sure sign she was upset, Magnus only nodded calmly. “Thank you for telling me. Don’t worry, I’m quite used to dealing with all of this,” she finished. Willow still looked uncomfortable, but she didn’t say anything in reply before she moved away to fuss with some items on a side table. 

When she was finished, she turned back to face the group and cleared her throat. “I know you each have different reasons for why this matters to you. That’s important because it means you each have different roles to play tonight.” She paused, collecting her thoughts. “Helen, you’re the anchor. You have the deepest and most intimate knowledge of the Sanctuary. Since that’s where we want to bring any of the people we can grab, we’re gonna need that.” Will watched as Helen nodded, her expression gravely serious. “Will and Henry, of the group, you are the most psychically sensitive, and you lean toward the medium side of the spectrum. I can use your energy and focus it toward the specific goal of grabbing souls.” Will wanted to ask questions, but somehow he knew that no one would hear him. “Mr. Big Foot, although your energy leans toward the medium side of things, what I’m going to be using you for is balance. Just like in everyday life, your energy will help balance everyone else’s into a coherent whole.” She paused for a breath, looking slightly pleased when Big Guy nodded, with no signs of amusement at her formality with his name.

“Dean, you were involved with magic before, so, more than anything, what I need from you is your belief. You know this can work, and I need you to share that certainty with everyone else. It’ll balance out the skeptics,” Willow added. 

Dean leaned on the edge of one of the stone benches in the courtyard, and nodded in acceptance of his role. 

Taking a deep breath, Willow launched into the only part of her explanation that seemed to make her a bit uncomfortable. “If I was the badies that are casting this, I would be anticipating problems. That’s where you and John come in,” she said, with a long look at Kate. 

Though he couldn’t have said exactly how he knew, Will could see the young redhead looking for signs of hesitancy or doubt. 

“You’re going to be playing defense. As part of the spell, I need you to focus on not allowing anyone to interfere. I’ve set things up so that if anyone tries to stop our hijacking, you’ll be able to deal with it without disrupting what the rest of us are doing.” Again, there were only nods in answer to her explanation. She waited a beat, but there were no questions. Willow stepped away from the group to finish the set up. There were pillar candles, lines of what he thought was probably salt, and other things he couldn’t identify from his distance.

Even as he tried to catalogue the details, a habit too ingrained to break even in his dreams, everything shifted again and he was in a room he didn’t recognize. It was night, and the middle of it, judging by how dark it was. Wherever he was, it was warm, and scented with flowers, though he couldn’t have named which ones. The realization that he was dreaming came slowly, but it didn’t bother him. 

There was something else he was there to do, and he wouldn’t, or couldn’t, wake up until it was done. Even as the thought drifted across his mind, a single flame lit in the centre of the room. The space it illuminated was uninhabited, richly furnished. As he studied them, the details stood out. The deep brown wood of the chairs and table, antiques by the look of them. The carpet was so soft and deep he was happy to be barefoot. The voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. It was female, and softly amused. “Always thinking, with you, trying to see patterns where there is only random chance.”

“Force of habit,” Will acknowledged, even as he looked around to find the speaker. There was no one, the room was still empty. 

“I have a message for you, if you wish to hear it. I cannot tell you from whom; you must know that for yourself. But the message is simple. Some connections cannot be completely broken, and some gifts aren’t meant to be understood. Your dreams are a gift, in grateful thanks. But they are not the only change you will find in yourself, if only you have the courage to look.”

“These dreams, are they really of things to come?” he asked, giving voice the suspicion that had been gnawing at him since Dean had arrived at Sanctuary.

“Why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?” asked the voice, though there was a thread of sympathy there now “It was thought that you deserved a reward for all that you have done. You dream of possibilities. Even for us, there are choices. You can always choose not to heed to warnings you are given, or to reject the gift inside yourself.” As the words faded into silence, the flame went out, leaving him alone in the dark, bereft. 

Though he had more questions than ever, there was no one to ask. He shifted to leave and woke up on his bed. A quick glance at his watch told him he’d lost less than an hour to sleep, or whatever he’d been doing. His neck was protesting, but other than that he was no worse for wear. With a sigh, he put his glasses on and got up. A headache started pounding behind his eyes as he thought about telling Magnus his dream revelations. If he was lucky, Willow would already know all of the necessary details and he wouldn’t have to say anything. A guy could hope.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Library  
9:30 am

Though he’d fully intended to come clean to Magnus the day before, the day had slipped away from him before he could decide what to say. When Willow had announced that she would update everybody the following morning, he made it a point to get to the library before anyone else. His boss and Willow sat on one of the couches, and looked to be enjoying a mutual tea love fest. Before he could talk himself out of it, he went over to join them, and interrupted the conversation. 

“I know the meeting isn’t until ten,” he began, trying not to show how uncomfortable he was, “but I was hoping to catch you both before we get things started.” Seating himself on the opposite couch, he looked at his hands, then back up at Helen. Of all the people he could be telling this to, he knew she would give him the benefit of the doubt. If only the whole thing didn’t so farfetched....

“Look, Magnus can tell you, what I know about magic wouldn’t fill so much as a thimble,” he started again. “Even so, I have some…suggestions for how this needs to happen.” Because he knew her so well, he caught the minute signs of surprise on Helen’s face.

“Okay. Like what?” It was Willow who asked, and she seemed open to his input. He outlined the people and their roles from his dream, forcing himself to continue even when he heard Helen’s slight gasp at the mention of her ex-fiancée. 

“Why on Earth would you suggest that, Will?” she asked. “You know how dangerous it is to have John here.” She glanced at the witch and didn’t go into detail. They both knew the energy elemental cohabiting in John’s body could regain control while he was at Sanctuary. It had left a path of havoc and death before and wouldn’t hesitate to do so again. John’s choice to stay away saved Helen the pain telling him he was unwelcome, but the whole thing was still seldom discussed. 

Even knowing the risks, and the pain the discussion would cause the woman who had given him so much, Will made himself continue. “If the spell is going to work, it needs to have as many people here with a vested interest in bringing down the Cabal as we can manage.” He paused, looking to Willow for conformation. She nodded, despite her confused expression. He dropped his gaze to the tea. “And it is more likely to work if those who were there for our original conflict are present, right?” Again, he looked to Willow.

“Okay, for a guy who doesn’t have a background in magic, you have a really good grasp of the underlying concepts,” Willow noted.

“Not really. I had help,” Will replied. “A while ago, I had what you might call a near death experience. It was nearer than most. I was actually dead for a while.” He deliberately left his ties to the Kali out of his explanation. “When I came back, I guess you could say I was a little different. Ever since then, I’ve been having these dreams…” The words wanted to stick in his throat. It felt wrong to give voice to something so private, but this was too important to keep to himself. “I know it’s going to sound crazy, but they are very vivid, very detailed, and they come true.” It sounded so ridiculous, even after everything he’d seen. But he’d said it at last.

“Oh, that explains it,” Willow sounded as though he’d told her two plus two was four. “Prophetic dreams are a bit much to get used to, I’m told, but they’re a really reliable way to get information. It means the Powers That Be, or whatever you want to call those in charge, want us to have the information we need to succeed.” Her body language hadn’t shifted by so much as a twitch of an eyelid. Will knew she spoke the truth, but he could only blink at her. Willow took pity on his dumbstruck expression, though she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her. “They aren’t as rare as you might think. I know someone, several someones, back home who have them,” she explained.

Relieved he wasn’t going to have to lay out all the things he’d been dreaming about, he turned to look at Magnus, only to find her smiling a little. 

“Not that I’m not concerned about the effect this is having on you, Will,” she told him, “but I had imagined any number of dire explanations for your behavior in the last little while. Knowing that it’s dreams, however disturbing, is actually a relief.” She stood up and grinned at the surprised look he knew he was wearing. “We’ll talk more about it later, Will. For now, I need you to tell Willow all the details of this dream of yours. I shall go and contact John and let him know we need his help. I’ll also let Henry know we need all the usual extra monitoring on him while he is here.”

That was about what he expected, as far as it went, and Will nodded. “Okay.” He waited a beat. “Thanks.” He meant it as much for the belief in him as for the lack of pressure. He had no doubt there would be questions later, but he hadn’t realized how worried he’d been that this would change things between them until it hadn’t. Her only answer was a smile.

Maybe he was just more curious than most people, but he was surprised when Willow didn’t pepper him with questions. She gave him time to collect himself, waiting until he’d poured himself a cup of coffee from the carafe on a side table and reseated himself. 

“Before you give me the run through, how much of a danger is this John person?” she asked. Her tone was even and there were no fear related cues on her manner or inflection. She didn’t seem to have any concerns about personal danger; the question appeared almost academic. That was interesting, and he noted it to think about later. That meant she was either extremely used to a high level of danger, or she was far more able to defend herself than she looked. He decided that it was probably both.

“How dangerous he is kinda depends on how you look at it. There’s a part of him that is truly lethal,” Will explained, leaving out the ‘he’s Jack the Ripper’ part of the explanation for the sake of brevity. “But he fights very hard to control that side of himself, mostly because he loves Helen more than anything.” As always, it made him feel sad and helpless to think about the situation between the two of them, but he put it aside. It wasn’t his story to tell, and there was nothing he could do about it, no matter how much he cared for Helen, or respected the man John Druitt was separate from the monster.

“I’m sorry,” Willow apologized. “I didn’t mean to bring back such painful memories, for any of you.” She meant it, he could tell, and he liked her more for the sincerity, but it was past time to change the subject.

“Apology accepted,” he told her, smiling a little at the relief he could see in her eyes. “Now why don’t I tell you about my dream?” he suggested.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
West Interior Courtyard  
7:38 pm

They gathered in an interior courtyard where Willow had already set up an abundance of candles and circled the entire area with salt, which she politely asked them all not to cross. Dean suspected he approved of the salt for entirely different reasons than she did, but nodded his acceptance without comment. 

The whole thing seemed highly improbable. But he’d gone after thinner leads in pursuit of his brother, so he would see this one through. The red-headed magic user was certainly competent. The sense of contained power radiating off of her raised the hairs on the back of his neck every time she got close. He was fairly certain if things did get dicey, she could handle herself. The same went for Big Foot, bigger and stronger than the average human, and he looked to have no trouble at using that to his advantage. As for Kate, well, he knew a street brat when he saw one. He guessed she knew how to fight, and wouldn’t be afraid to do it dirty.

He listened while Willow detailed the roles of those who were going to be involved in the spell, and Tesla, who was minding the security set up and software. He assured them all he could handle it in his sleep. The sarcasm between Tesla and Henry lacked any real bite. They went back and forth about the protocols before being shushed by a pointed look from Magnus.  
Willow tossed some herbs he couldn’t identify into a shallow dish heating on a small open flame set up in the centre of the circle as he took up his indicated position. He hadn’t expected to feel nervous, but a combination of nerves, anticipation and a tiny spark of hope knotted his stomach. 

“Remember,” Willow told them, “you need to hold your position, unless you’re defending, until I finish the incantation and the last of whoever we can reach are safely inside the circle. We don’t know how many people we’re dealing with, so I structured it for overflow to go to safe places or people they have ties to. Hopefully, the bulk of them will come here, so we can make sure they’re okay.” She nodded towards a table already set up with clothing and medical supplies since there was no telling what kind of shape the souls would be in.

Willow made eye contact with everybody one last time, waiting on some invisible sign or signal. Whatever it was, she must have got it, because she began chanting a few heartbeats later. Despite her sunny disposition and modest manner, the aura of power that cloaked her as soon as she began told Dean that whoever she really was, she was a major player in the magical community, quite possibly the most powerful witch he’d ever seen working a spell. He hoped she was solidly anchored on the side of rainbows, sunshine, puppies and other good things. 

Giving himself a mental shake, he focused on what he was supposed to be thinking about: his brother. He had no knowledge of the Cabal, other than what he’d been told. He wanted to throw a wrench in their works on principle. The specifics of the wrench were for others to focus on. Willow had told him that if the spell could reach anyone who was lost it would be because someone called to them, on a primal level. So he stood as still as he could, and put all his energy toward calling out to Sam, willing his brother to hear him, like so many times before.

The power in the courtyard strengthened, thickening until he could nearly taste it. A breeze sprung up to tease at their hair and clothes, and Willow grinned fiercely as her hair and eyes slowly turned white. Her voice echoed with a choral quality, as if many voices chanted with her. Dean recognized some of the words she was saying as Latin, but she spoke too quickly for him to decipher. She started out with a plea, progressing to a demand that made him glad he wasn’t on the receiving end. 

Even though part of him expected it, Dean jumped when people began. Some were standing, some were laying, others were sprawled in what looked like painful positions. Most were naked or nearly so. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to go check among them for Sam, but he held his position, mindful of Willow’s warning. The incantation, and the influx of people continued, but it was taking a toll. Henry and Will were both sweating heavily and straining under an invisible weight, and Magnus looked like she too wanted to break position, likely to check on her people. 

It was then that he felt a dark anger claw at him, making him feel as if someone was trying to scoop out his brains with a rusty spork. He forced himself to ignore the pain and focus on his brother, on the people scattered around, and what they were all trying to accomplish. He felt his vision grey around the edges, and a wave of dizziness took him to his knees. Then, though her incantation continued, Willow’s voice sounded in his head. “I warned you they might try to stop us. They can’t get through unless you lose focus and let them.” He could see the others stiffened. They had all heard her. He pushed his way back to his feet and forced himself to focus beyond the crushing pressure in his head.

When he thought he couldn’t hold on a second longer, the incantation wound to close. The pressure vanished, taking the worst of the pain with it. Though he still felt sick and shaky and wasn’t altogether certain someone wasn’t stabbing him through the eye socket, he was conscious. Shaking his head was a mistake. He looked around, hoping to see a familiar flash of sandy blond hair or lanky form, but there were so many people, it was impossible to tell if any of them were Sam. 

They all held in place for a moment, waiting to be sure it was over. When no one else appeared, Magnus rushed over to Henry and Will, who looked about as bad as he felt. John and Kate were still scanning warily for threats, and Big Foot was moving toward the medical supplies. Dean decided methodical was the way to go and moved to one end of the group of people to begin his search for Sam. Before he reached anybody, he heard a small groan, and turned back just in time to see Willow collapse. He was fast, but Henry was faster, somehow managing to break free of his colleagues and catch her before all of her made contact with the grass.

He took another moment to be sure that the Sanctuary people had the situation under control. Magnus was a doctor, and soon announced that from all indications it looked like a simple case of exhaustion. Dean left the tending to the experts and began moving from person to person, looking for Sam. 

He made it through almost all of them, cataloguing a varied group: men and women in about equal measure, some young, some old and all of them with injuries of some kind. Indeed, not all of them were conscious, though from what he could tell, they all had a strong pulse, which was good. He heard Druitt and Tesla searching as well, but disappointment was beginning to rise, so he didn’t pay attention. He’d told himself not to get his hopes up. He’d gone through all of this and there was no sign of Sam. Between the toll of the spell and his own emotions, he had to fight not to bring his breakfast up all over his battered shoes. 

Taking deep breaths, he reminded himself that at least he had tried, and that he would keep trying. He got himself back under at least a semblance of control as Magnus and Will returned, explaining to the others that Henry was watching over Willow in the house. Turning to go back the way he’d come, Dean noticed a figure laying behind a grouping of three women that he hadn’t been able to see before. It was a man, he could tell, but the clothes were so scorched and ripped, they were unrecognizable.

Dean moved so that he could get a better look and felt his heart begin to pound hard enough to choke him. No, don’t get your hopes up. It probably just looks like him. That doesn’t mean it is, he told himself as firmly as he could manage. But when he looked closer, nearly beside the man, Dean fell to his knees because they wouldn’t hold him anymore. He was bruised like he’d come out on the wrong side of a long and vicious fight, his arm was at a very bad angle, and he was so skinny he was barely himself, but it was Sam. There was no doubting it, he would know his brother anywhere. And thank God or whoever was behind all of this, he had a strong, steady pulse, though he was unconscious on the ground. 

It was Helen who found them a few minutes later. Unable to keep from smiling at the very personal note to their success, she didn’t try to separate the two brothers, only moved Dean over and urged him to drink some of the bottled water she offered him while she checked Sam’s vitals. “We’ll get you both down to the infirmary so he can recover in comfort as soon as we can,” she assured him, clasping his shoulder briefly, before she stood to ask one of the men to bring over a stretcher. Nodding in acknowledgment, Dean tried to say thanks, only to find his voice didn’t want to work. Magnus didn’t seem to mind, she’d already been waylaid by a staff member, who was walking with her to another grouping of new arrivals. 

It worried him that Sam was unconscious. Part of him was screaming about what he had probably been through, what Dean had been through. He buried that all behind a very thick wall, and moved to follow the stretcher that Tesla and Will had picked up and were moving smoothly towards the main complex.

“He’s stable,” Will murmured reassuringly. “Hopefully, it won’t be long before he wakes up.” Nodding his thanks, Dean concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Now that the whole thing was over with, he has about as much energy as a spaghetti noodle. 

They had just about made it to the door when a strangled exclamation from the other end of the courtyard made everyone turn. Druitt had been checking the last group of arrivals, three semi-conscious women who looked worse for wear. The tall, bald man had gone dead white and something about the look on his face made Dean’s stomach clench. He wasn’t surprised when both Will and Tesla carefully set Sam’s stretcher down to move in that direction. When John spoke, it was with a mixture of pain and absolute joy in his tone. “Helen, come here,” he directed. 

Watching this play out, Dean thought the arrival of the doctor would make things clearer, but when Magnus joined them, she seemed to freeze. “It’s not possible. It can’t be,” she barely managed to say, voice choked with tears. She stumbled forward and wrapped her arms around the youngest blonde. After a moment, Druitt joined her, which was really surprising, as he hadn’t ever expected to see the menacing man show anything remotely resembling affection. 

Tesla explained when he came back to pick up one end of the stretcher, gesturing to Dean to pick up the other. “Magnus and Druitt lost their daughter, Ashley, to the Cabal. It appears she has been returned,” he said, with a slight smile. Well, that explained the reaction. Dean nodded as the pieces made a clearer picture. Now they just had to hope that everyone woke up safe and sane.

Magnus had to find space for the sixty-some people in the infirmary wing. The new arrivals took up several long rooms laid out quite similarly to all the hospital wards Dean had ever been in. For convenience’s sake, Sam, Willow, and Ashley were all made as comfortable as possible in the same room. 

Willow hadn’t woken up, but her vitals were stable and Henry reported she had left contingency instructions for them. Apparently, it was a simple case of overload from doing a snatch and grab of far more people than she expected. Dean didn’t see sixty as that many, but what the hell did he know about the energy involved in moving anyone with magic? According to her instructions, once her body had a chance to rest and replenish itself, and the IVs she was hooked up to balanced her electrolytes, she would be right as rain.

No one could tell him much about when any of the survivors, most importantly Sam, would wake up, so Dean pulled a chair next to Sam’s bed. It didn’t surprise him to see Druitt doing the same at Ashley’s bedside. It caught his interest when Henry moved to Willow’s bedside. It was none of his business, so he simply filed the note away and settled in to do some waiting of his own. There wasn’t much to look at in the room other than the bed and the monitoring equipment. The confirmation of Sam’s heartbeat was reassuring, but barely five minutes of listening to the muted beeps had him wishing he could pace, or turn on loud music. 

A little later those who were in the best shape of the group showed signs of stabilizing, and brief periods of near consciousness, but hadn’t woken up. Striving for patience, Dean repositioned in his chair, tipping his head back to stare at the off-white ceiling. An hour after that, Big Foot brought a tray with food and blessedly hot coffee, which Dean gulped gratefully, before biting into the tasty sandwich. He wasn’t hungry, but at least eating helped kill time. 

The hours and the daylight trickled away. Kate came over to Sam’s bed at one point and offered to watch him while Dean got some rest and a shower or whatever, but he declined. It just wasn’t in him to leave Sam so soon after finding him. He was half afraid that if he did, his brother would somehow go missing again. 

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, the sounds of a commotion in the other corner of the room had his hand groping for a gun. Seeing that Sam was still safely tucked into his bed and the monitors attached to him were quiet, he relaxed.

“Calm down, sweetheart. It’s okay, you’re home,” Magnus was saying soothingly, over at Ashley’s bed. He assumed the commotion was her waking up. He moved a bit closer, not wanting to intrude, but curious about how the process would go when Sam came to. 

He couldn’t see the young woman in the bed very well, with both her mother and father in the way, but from what he could hear, she was agitated and afraid, and not yet aware that she was safe. Dean thought that was a reasonable reaction. Wherever she had been before they had pulled her back here hadn’t been pleasant. 

He made sure he had his own memories of Hell firmly under control. The last thing he needed to was to be stuck in some damned total body flashback when his brother woke up and needed him. Besides, he owed these people a lot for their help. He didn’t think they would appreciate it if he began repaying them with a complete meltdown.

It took more effort than he liked, but he got his mind back to the here and now. Ashley appeared to have calmed down and come closer to consciously coherent. He could hear her muttering, though he couldn’t make out the words. He considered going closer to observe, but he figured they needed time to reconnect as a family. It wasn’t everyday a family member came back from the dead. He had reason to know how big of an adjustment that was. Waiting and watching from a distance made him twitchy, but he stayed in his chair. No one was paying him any attention. 

Ashley was getting louder. “No. Stay away from me. Get away,” he heard her cry out. He gave her parents both points for smarts when they backed away to let her have space, but she remained upset. “Where am I?” She demanded. “Who are you?” 

He would have eavesdropped on what they told her, but Sam became restless, muttering nonsense syllables. Everything else in the room vanished. When Sammy was in trouble, he was all that mattered.

“Wake up, bro. You’ve been asleep long enough,” Dean told him, careful to keep his tone as gentle and non-threatening as possible. Sam was going to be scared enough without anyone adding to it, even if the someone was his own brother. “It’s me, Dean,” he explained. “It’s really me, not some illusion or whatever,” he added, knowing it was going to be tough to convince Sam of the reality of his situation. In the back of his mind, Dean started contemplating how to convince him, but when he opened his eyes, Sam didn’t look scared, only confused.

“Where am I?” he asked, his voice rough, though whether it was from disuse or pain was impossible to tell.

“You’re safe, Sam,” Dean told him. “We’re with friends. With their help, we managed to get you back here.” He didn’t want to go into too much specific detail until Sam’s brain had a chance to catch up with his body. “Take it easy, man. You’ve been through a lot,” he instructed.

It took a minute, but Sam relaxed against the bed and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was easy to see the effort he was putting into staying calm. “I know you said your name is Dean, but who are you?” he asked.

For a moment, Dean thought he was kidding, that it was a coping mechanism gone wrong. But the confusion was complete and genuine. Resisting the urge to shake him, or yell at him, he breathed out carefully. “It’s me, Dean,” he answered. “Your brother,” he repeated.

The same confused stare, took on the first hints of fear. “You keep saying that,” Sam spoke slowly, “but I don’t know you. And you keep calling me Sam, but that’s just a name. I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Main Infirmary Laboratory  
9:01 pm

There were so many feelings rushing through her that Helen was a bit dizzy. She had plenty of practice putting personal feelings aside in crisis, so she pushed them all to one side and went on with the work that needed her attention. Although her heart wanted to believe Ashley and Sam had been returned, her logical mind wouldn’t accept it without proof. There were swabs to be taken and samples to be scanned. With Dean’s permission, she took a sample of his blood to compare to Sam’s. 

With the Big Guy’s help, she hooked both Ashley and Sam up to IVs to replace fluids and nutrients. Though it made her feel disloyal, she left the main infirmary long enough to be sure that every other person who had been rescued was resting comfortably. She focused on the job until there was no more work to be done. 

Then, she sat at her daughter’s bedside and tried not to think or feel too much. When the scans came back positively identifying both of them, the room actually went dark for a moment, the relief was so great it swamped her. Without needing to be told, John guided her to a chair. He knew what the paperwork was that Will had rushed in, and he smile was so reminiscent of his old self that it was a separate stab of pain. He wasn’t his old self and she wasn’t sure that he could be again.

That pain couldn’t dim her joy. The wound she had carried since Ashley’s death, the weight of the guilt and loss, had become such a part of her that the absence of it felt strange. It didn’t seem real, and she had no doubt it wouldn’t until she could talk to her, hear her voice, see her smile, all the things that made her distinctly Ashley. Helen was enough of a realist to be waiting for the other shoe to drop. Though she hadn’t actively prayed in years she had caught herself bargaining with God, or whoever was listening while she had watched over her sleeping daughter. If they would just let Ashley wake up and be okay, she would never ask for anything else, for herself, for John, for anyone. But this wasn’t some happy ever after fairly tale.

Part of her wasn’t surprised when first Ashley and then Sam had woken no recollection of themselves or their life. The pain of that blank look had sliced through her like a blade. Willow had warned them there would be a price to pay. This must be part of it. 

The important thing was they were back. Everything else was merely details. Not even in the deepest, most hidden part of herself had she considered that the spell Willow had brought to her could save her daughter. She’d had to close the door on those hopes to survive with her sanity intact. 

It was a miracle, a wonderfully unexpected miracle. If the price was having Ashley without being able to know her, to get the relationship they’d shared back, Helen would find a way to live with that. She would have to, but it didn’t make the pain of the awkwardness they felt around each other any easier to deal with.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Kate Freelander’s Room  
11:19 pm

The emotional highs of the week had been intense. It was no wonder she was wired. For lack of any better outlet, she tried the gym, pushing her body farther than she should have. A ride on the bike, a run on the treadmill with the inline maxed out, then free weights, followed by a session with the speed bag left her muscles aching. Then she did enough laps in the pool long enough to turn herself into a raisin. Even when she was physically exhausted, her mind wouldn’t stop turning circles. She didn’t like what they were circling. If there was one thing Kate knew, it was herself: the good, the bad, and all the in between. This time, she just didn’t want to look at how she felt.

Only a truly horrible person would be unhappy that something so fantastic happened to someone she called a friend; even if that friend happened to be her boss. She ended up alone in her room, sprawled in her usual thinking position, staring at the wall. There was no getting around it. The more it sunk in that Ashley was back, the more uncomfortable Kate felt. The entire dynamic of her home had shifted. Everyone else from the Sanctuary had a pre-existing relationship with her. 

All Kate had were the rumors about her that had made the rounds of the Cabal and its affiliates. True, it was obvious that the combination of whatever the Cabal had done to her and her time elsewhere had changed her more than a little, but still. The girl—woman—was a freaking legend. Ashley’s return brought back the guilt Kate felt about what she had nearly let her ambition turn her into.

Punching the pillow, Kate reminded herself that she may have crossed some lines working for the Cabal, and a few others before them, but she’d had good reasons. She’d done good work with the Sanctuary since then. That was the problem. 

Magnus had only taken her on because of necessity. Ashley’s disappearance and death had left a vacuum for Kate to fill. With Ashley back in the bosom of her family there wasn’t going to be any need for her. Kate knew he’d be needed during Ashley’s recovery period from the whole limbo thing, but if even half of what was said about Magnus’ daughter was true, she was going to land on her feet and hit the ground running. 

Turning over to scowl at the ceiling, Kate tried for reason. Magnus wasn’t the sort to turf her into the street after everything. If there wasn’t a place for her in Old City anymore, she could always ask for a transfer. Hell, she could always go back to Mumbai. At least she fit it, sort of. The very thought of leaving made her eyes burn with the effort of holding back tears. Stupid to have let herself get attached to a place, or to the people in it. Now she didn’t know how to get unattached, and had no one to blame but herself.

The soft knock at the door startled her more than it should have, and she shook her head to try and clear it a little. “Yeah?” she called, hoping it wasn’t a work related crisis. The last thing an already shitty night needed was a hunt through the sewers.

“You were thinking pretty loud at dinner,” Will commented, by way of greeting as he walked in. “Thought I’d stop by and ask if you wanted to talk out whatever was bothering you.”

“Just because I’m having an off night, doesn’t mean anything is bothering me.” It came out more defensive than she would have liked, edging close to a whine. She crossed her arms over her chest and willed him to go away. Rather than bothering with a reply to her words, Will looked at her steadily, then raised his eyebrows. Letting out her breath with a huff, she tried again. “Look, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine.”

“You’re so fine, you can barely eat and haven’t said more than two words to anyone since we did the spell,” Will answered, leaning against the wall at the end of her bed, ignoring the piles of clothes, assorted weapons, and random garbage scattered around her room without comment.

She tried a shrug. It felt forced. “I’ve got a lot on my mind.” That was true, even if it was a non-answer. She watched as Will shifted forward, and wished she had the energy to tell him off so he would just leave her in peace. 

“You’re worrying over nothing,” he told her, his voice matching the knowing look he gave her. “Just because Ashley’s back doesn’t mean anyone, even Magnus, wants to go back to the way things were before she left. She’s just happy to have a second chance with her daughter. We all are. But that doesn’t mean there won’t be a place for you. None of us are going to forget everything you’ve done.” He paused, which gave her a moment to blink her eyes against some poorly timed dust, or allergies. She opened her mouth to protest.

“I don’t have to ask her, because I already know. There will always be a place here for you, for as long as you want it.” Stepping forward, he gripped her arm for a moment to make his point. “And you would know it, if you stopped being insecure long enough to consider it.” He shoved her back, gently, and was gone before she could argue. That was alright, because it meant he wasn’t there to see a few traitorous tears slip down her cheeks before she wiped them away. She was smiling when she did. That was a shrink for ya, they just always had to be right.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Main Infirmary Recovery Room  
12:05 am

Henry didn’t bother asking if it was okay to relocate to the infirmary, he just set up a work station near Willow. Once he was logged on to the network and able to tell himself he was working, his mind turned to trying to figure out his reaction to the woman. 

He barely knew her, yet she brought out all of his protective instincts. He caught himself wanting to hear her voice, wanting to get to know her. What made her laugh, what made her cry? The amount of power he’d seen her handle had been a surprise, but even that hadn’t put him off. His wolf side respected a female who could handle herself. It wasn’t the weirdest thing he’d seen someone do around here, not by a long shot.

After stealing a glance at Willow, Henry let his eyes move over to settle on Ashley. It was surreal, but all the requisite scans and tests had come back as positive as it gets. Magnus had explained that the amnesia was only one of the unknowns: they still didn’t know what exactly the Cabal had done with her. They knew she’d done some bad things. They were not her fault, and they’d all help her see that. That’s what you did for family. 

He’d never admitted to anyone how much guilt he carried over what happened to Ashley. Magnus had been carrying enough.When you screwed up, you deserved to carry the consequences. If he had been in better control, stronger, faster, something, he would have seen to it that neither of them got grabbed when they went into the heart of Cabal territory. 

The fault was on him, so were the burdens of guilt and remorse. Blinking, he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, and then took a deep breath. With a little luck, she would remember who and what she was soon. He refused to even contemplate that Ashley might never remember. She had to, so that he could finally apologize for everything.

Given the unfinished business between them, it made more sense to be obsessing about Ashley. Instead, it was Willow he couldn’t get out of his mind. Heck, he’s rearranged his whole day so he could stay where she was, so she wouldn’t wake alone in a strange place. Women were definitely not an area he considered himself an expert in. But if he’d been through as much as she had, he wouldn’t want to be alone.

The sound of a throat clearing caught his attention and he glanced over to see Willow open her eyes and put a hand to her head. Moving carefully, so as not to startle her, he grabbed the water and aspirin that were already waiting on the table. “Here, take these,” he told her softly. “Doc said you’d wake up with a hell of a headache.”

It took a few more sips of water and another try before she was able to talk. “I feel like a whole herd of some very large wildlife just took up residence in my head,” Willow agreed. Out of consideration, he toggled a switch to dim the room lights before he settled on to the chair next to her bed.

“You had us all a bit worried. We were thinking about calling this Giles person of yours if you didn’t wake up today,” Henry told her.

“I’m fine,” Willow told him. Her pale face and eyes smudged with dark circles, said otherwise. “There was a bit more to the spell than I expected. Well, okay, a lot more. I think we managed to save over five hundred people.” Henry whistled as she continued. “Plus, I didn’t think I would get such information overload from the group,” she explained.

It took a second for his brain to catch up. “Information? How much information, and about what exactly?” he asked cautiously. No matter how much he liked her, or how appealingly cute she was, an outsider with working knowledge of the Sanctuary was a bad idea.

Genuine regret showed on her face and in her voice, but she answered honestly. “Well, I pretty much know what it is you do here, the abnormals you protect from the world. But it’s okay, I won’t tell,” she tried to reassure him. “Would it make you feel better if I told you something about myself that you aren’t supposed to know?” 

It was an odd question, but the fact that she would offer made him feel a little better. “It might help,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair the way he did when he was nervous.

“Okay then,” Willow began, looking more than a little guilty. “When I’m not taking unscheduled trips to rescue large groups of people from demons, I help protect a bunch of girls who are vampire slayers. Until about a year ago, my one of best friends was one of the only vampire slayers in existence. Some really bad things happened, so we had to change that. Now there are Slayers all over the world. I help set up their bases of operations, and keep them safe with all the magical help I can give them. We fight vampires, demons, and all kinds of other monsters you probably hope never to find in your closet.” This was all delivered in rush, then she caught her breath and waited to see what he would say.

“Huh,” was all he could think of at first. Blinking, he let his brain separate out the words. He had the feeling it was lacking in all kinds of crucial details. Willow had definitely dropped him square in the middle of things he wasn’t supposed to know. Now, she was watching him carefully, and there was sadness creeping into her eyes, like she was expected denial or rejection. Henry could only think of one question. “Monsters, huh? So, how do you feel about werewolves?” he asked.

She cocked her head sideways and stared at him. “I don’t have any problem with them, as long as they’re under control. I actually dated one once, a long time ago,” she admitted. Whether due to injury or fatigue, he couldn’t say, but it took a moment longer for it to click. “Oh,” she managed, smiling slightly.

Encouraged by the smile, he tried one more question. “And would you maybe be willing to give dating another one a shot? That is, if you don’t mind techno geeks.”

This time the smile was wider and the happiness under it was obvious enough for even him to see. “I appreciate geek in a guy. I’ll explain why later, when we have a chat about your security and how to integrate some magical precautions into it,” Willow told him. “As it happens, I think I am about ready to start dating again. I don’t have the best luck at it, so you’ll have to be persistent. I hope you’re not opposed to long distance.” 

Barely stopping himself from full on beaming at her, Henry settled for nodding. “Yeah, we can try.” It should have been awkward, the two of them, just staring at one and other, but instead it was comfortable. He spared a moment to wish they were spending time together in one of the guest wings, or even his room. Then his brain came around to the earlier conversation. “Wait a minute, did you say hundreds of people? How is that even possible?” he questioned.

Oh, yeah, maybe she should have glossed over the numbers, Willow realized belatedly. It was easy to forget that the Sanctuary group didn’t have the background in magic that her friends and family did, at least not yet. “We had no way of knowing the numbers until after we finished. I still can only take a guess, somewhere near five hundred or so,” Willow told him, struggling against the fatigue that was urging her to slide back into sleep.

“But we didn’t even manage to pull a full hundred of them here. We can’t just leave them out there, defenseless and not knowing who they are, can we?” The very idea offended Henry’s innate sense of fairness, and he was half way to yelling, though he didn’t seem to realize it. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t mean there was anything she could do about it. “I have no way to find them,” she admitted. “Right now, I’m so drained, I couldn’t even try if I wanted to. Our society sees victims of memory loss all the time. I built enough safe guards into the spell that whoever they were, they were returned to places they felt safe. All of them are alive and well, even if they don’t know themselves. They have a chance now, to live their lives. We gave them that. It’s the best we can do, and it’s more than they had before we did this.” She was right and she knew it, but the words comforted her. 

Most people who were thinking about dating got to think about what to wear, whether to kiss goodnight or other ordinary things. Then again, ordinary was overrated.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Ashley Magnus’ Rooms  
9:47 am

It was strange living in her skin but no recognizing the face in the mirror when she saw it. The doctor – her mother – had told her that there was no way of knowing how much of the amnesia would be permanent. Sitting at the vanity table, brushing her hair in the bright morning sun, Ashley wondered if she couldn’t remember because she didn’t want to. 

Getting out of the infirmary had taken some time; her body was battered and weak, and didn’t heal as quickly as she got the feeling that it should have. She’d been glad to go back to the rooms they said were hers, had been since childhood. Even if they weren’t familiar, they were bright and cheerful and helped keep the flashes at bay. 

That’s all she got from before: flashes, shards of memories that didn’t fit together to make pictures that made sense. They were too dark, too ugly and far too violent. The muscle memory she could access proved she was no stranger to fighting, but the psychiatrist had assured her that her violence had always had a purpose, been used to defend her family and her home. He’d looked haunted when he said it. She knew it was because as much as he meant it, and wanted it to be true, he couldn’t know. 

None of them, not her mother, her father, or any of the people, who claimed to be her friends, could really know what she had done when she was taken. Her time in limbo didn’t bother her as much as knowing that she had been taken, changed and used. Everyone kept telling her to give herself time. She still couldn’t figure out how she was supposed to settle back into a life she couldn’t remember. She was nothing like the pictures in the Sanctuary said she should be. When the flashes came, and she couldn’t help but feel threatened, the changes made themselves known. The first time her claws and fangs had extended, she’d ruined a shirt and nearly put a hole in her bedroom wall. 

When she tried to using the gym to get rid of some of her nervous energy, she’d knocked a punching bag completely out of the ceiling, then broken a support beam when she punched the wall in frustration. All the power, but none of the control. It was terrifying. 

Her mother had explained that the Sanctuary protected and helped all abnormals who asked, and only ever destroyed as a last resort, when a being was killed without cause and wouldn’t be contained, or was deemed to be suffering too greatly. When she wasn’t occupied with other things, it was impossible to forgetthat she had killed without cause, and was definitely suffering. She kept the parallels to herself, but it added to the stress.

Despite numerous questions and protests, no one would tell her anything about her life except the essentials. The shrink said it was best to let things come back in their own time. Well, screw that. 

She’d gotten up early that morning and helped herself to a file from the database: her own. Just because she didn’t remember the things she’d done didn’t mean she couldn’t find out. She’d gone through the whole file, twice. It had helped, somewhat. 

Slivers of cases she’d worked with her mom and the others had come back. So had a clearer picture of what she had let the Cabal turn her into. How many people had she killed on their say so? 

It didn’t make sense that the spell had reached her and brought her out of whatever limbo her last teleport had left her in. She deserved to stay there. Torn between wanting to scream and cry and the urge to throw up, she stood up and headed for the door. The bright sunshine sure as hell didn’t suit her mood, but she needed to move, to walk. It beat destroying the room she had been given as a coping skill.  
Caught up in her own thoughts, she forgot how much faster she could walk, and plowed into Dean on one of the paths in the garden. She muttered an apology and would have kept going, but he stepped in her way.

“You’re in a hurry,” he commented. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, I am and no, it’s not. Thanks for the talk,” Ashley told him abruptly. On the list of sins she’d committed lately, rudeness ranked pretty low. Besides, it would get him out of her way.

“You know, it’s not a good idea to just wander around that upset. You never know who might take advantage of your distraction,” Dean cautioned, looking at her closely. 

Obviously, he’d missed the memo about just how capable she was at taking care of anything, or anyone that got in her way. The thought triggered a memory. Instead of seeing the lush green grass, ornamental hedges, or the man opposite her, she was back in some tall glass box of an office building.

She was slitting the throat of a security guard whose only crime had been getting in her way. The hot gush of his blood over her hands had only been an inconvenience because she would need her hands to deal with the safe and had nothing to wipe them on. She’d snuffed out his life without even blinking and her only annoyance had been the lack of a towel. 

It made her wonder what kind of person she was or had been. She didn’t realize she spoke aloud.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Ashley Magnus’ Rooms  
3:12 am

Watching Ashley’s eyes go blank and far away, Dean took a careful step back to give her some space. He’d seen how hard coming back was on Sam, so he had a pretty good idea what had the lady so upset. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel threatened. 

He was still near enough to hear her wonder what kind of person she was. Magnus and the others had only given him the briefest summary of what had happened to Ashley before she ended up in Purgatory. But he was an expert in guilt, especially the kind that came from knowing you had the blood of innocent people on your hands. 

It wasn’t going to do her any good to bottle it all up, he determined. Sometimes these things were easier to tell to someone you didn’t know well. Those reasons skipped over the sympathy he was trying to ignore, but that was no one’s business but his. 

“You’re the same kind of person you were before you for were taken,” he told her, pretending she’d intended to ask him. “Whatever happened after wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it. They wanted you to think that you could have.”

The words hit the mark, he could tell, because her face went even paler and her hands began to shake. “You didn’t know me before, you don’t know me now, and you sure as hell don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” she brushed him off, anger radiating off her in waves.

He took a second to think about it, wondering if he wanted to share something so personal. Ashley was right, he didn’t know her but she’d fought hard to recover. None of what happened to her was any fairer than what happened to Sam. 

Sam was still distancing himself from everyone, so Dean couldn’t help him. Maybe, he could help her. Maybe he could help himself.

“I could tell you, to the second, how long it takes to torture someone until they break. I could tell you that about more people than I can count easily,” he told her, pitching his voice just loud enough to reach her, trusting the flat, matter of fact tone to do the rest.

It didn’t look like she was entirely willing to listen, but she stopped walking away. “You don’t understand,” she argued.

“I understand that instead of being thankful for the second chance your friends – your family—bought for you, you’re busy pissing it away feeling sorry for yourself.” It was harder than he should have pushed, probably. But he’d always been a go big or go home kind of guy.

Color washed into her cheeks and her head snapped up. “Go to hell,” she screamed at him.

“Been there,” he told her, “but it didn’t stick. So here we are.” He waited until she met his eyes, and let her that he meant it literally. “Look, I’m not arguing that what happened to you, to Sam, to everyone else, didn’t suck. But you can’t live your life dwelling on all the shit you did wrong. You make up for it as best you can while you live whatever is left of your life.” It wasn’t much, as philosophies went, but it was all he had to offer.

Still, maybe it got through at least a little, because she mustered up a smirk. “That’s pretty pathetic, you know,” she told him.

“If you can critique my technique, that must mean you can do better,” he smirked right back, feeling a spark of accomplishment as they walked down the path. If there was another spark of hope that maybe he could transfer this to helping Sam, well nobody had to know that but him. “Do yourself a favor, Ashley. Go do something that will get your mind off the anger. Just because you’re carrying it around doesn’t make it a good idea to focus on it. Trust me on this one,” he added, adding his most persuasive smile, since it usually helped him get what he wanted.

Ashley didn’t look impressed. They were still walking, albeit a bit slower, and she turned to look at him thoughtfully. “Don’t ask me why, but I do,” she murmured, shifting to look where she was going. “You’re probably not the trustworthy type, and I get the feeling it could get me into all kinds of trouble, but I do trust you.”

How things had gone from angry to light and then so serious so quickly was a mystery but Dean sensed that he needed to step carefully, and it had nothing to do with where he was walking. “Look, Ashley, I’m no saint. Some of what I’ve done is pretty horrible,” he admitted, fighting back the despair those bleak memories always brought. Stopping abruptly, he put his hands on her arms to stop her. “But I’m not going to hurt you. Whatever else you might be having trouble believing right now, that’s the truth.” Though his voice had gone lower and rougher than usual, he managed to get the words out, despite the pounding of his heart.

Though he could feel her trembling, Ashley seemed in control of herself as she faced him. Her eyes were a bit wider than normal and she was breathing a bit quickly, but they had just been arguing. They stood like that for another handful of heartbeats, just long enough for the silence to start making him edgy. Then she shifted until her slender body was draped on him, barely giving him enough time to shift to accept her weight before she kissed him, deep and wet and definitely not shy about getting what she wanted. “I believe you,” she murmured when she pulled back. “But I think that means we might both be in trouble.”

Tangling a hand in her hair, Dean tugged gently so that he had better access to kiss his way along her jaw line and throat and then returning to her lips. “That’s alright. I’m an expert in trouble,” he whispered, before his mouth was much too busy to talk.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Will Zimmerman’s Room  
1:10 am

In the days following the spell, Will expected to be busy. With so many partial or total amnesia victims, it was only natural that there was a higher demand for his professional services. Helen Magnus might have been one of the most formidable woman he’d ever known, but she was still a mother who had lost, and then found, her only child. It took some juggling to make sure he had enough time to check on her as often as he liked. 

He enjoyed the chance to use his skills, and he was thrilled that Ashley had been returned to them. It was a little overwhelming but he was handling it the same way he always did: by making sure that everyone else was handling it. As an added bonus, he got to see Henry and Willow feeling their way through the beginning stages of what looked to be a serious long distance relationship.

The one thing he hadn’t counted on was that his dreams continued. Now, instead of dreaming of Dean and Sam and their various hunts, he was dreaming of Sam, and what he assumed were the man’s very private nightmares. With the crisis over, there was no good reason that he would still be being sent dreams. The only thing he’d been able to come up with was that there was some kind of message that he just wasn’t getting.For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out what it was. He had to admit it made him uncomfortable to be eavesdropping on such private moments, even if it was unintentional. 

It didn’t help that the more they spent time together, while he tried to help Sam through what was understandably a difficult time, the more he liked him. He was dealing with a situation that would be enough to make anyone lash out, or sink into melancholy. Yet Sam was doing his level best to get on with his life. Given what he’d observed of the dynamic between the two brothers, it actually surprised Will that they were still staying at Sanctuary. Whatever the reason, he was glad of they stayed. 

Sam still had large gaps in his memory, and some fairly major injuries. But as long as he was being honest with himself, Will had to admit his interest in Sam went beyond that of a doctor for his patient. He’d caught himself thinking more and more about the man, even before he’d started dreaming again.

Sighing, he slid out of bed and pulled on an ancient sweater to go with his admittedly baggy flannel sleep pants. If he was wrong and he was just being a shade too empathetic or something then he could always get a snack to make getting up worthwhile. If he was right, and Sam had just finished the nightmare he had just experienced, then maybe he could help. He was already moving before it occurred to him that he had absolutely no explanation for why he would be looking for company this time of night. It wasn’t like he could just knock on the door of Sam’s room at this hour to chat. Still, he kept moving. There was no way he was going to be able to sleep and he hadn’t gotten this far on his intuition to stop listening to it now. 

He padded through the guest wing first, to see if he was wrong after all. Sam’s door was open and the lights were off. Continuing on, he pondered where the other man might be, letting his feet take him wherever they felt like. He ended up headed into the kitchen, the pool of light spilling out the doors answered his question. “Guess it’s snack time after all,” he muttered to himself. Quietly, he walked over to the coffeemaker, and helped himself to a cup. It was fresh enough that he knew the Big Guy must have made a point of making more recently, in case of wandering insomniacs. He had to appreciate the consideration, as he lifted the pot to carry it over to the table. “Hey.” He tipped the pot towards Sam as he got his attention.

Nodding tiredly, Sam attempted a smile, and held up his own mug. “Sure why not?” he asked. “Not like I’m going back to sleep.”

Will couldn’t ask for a more perfect opening than that. Dropping into another one of the chairs, he made sure to keep his tone even when he spoke. “Rough night?”

Another tired nod was Sam’s answer, but Will was encouraged he was even willing to admit to that much. Looking without it appearing that he was studying his subject closely took a very specific skill set. He’d had a lot of practice, so he buried his face in his mug, and took note of the signs of stress and strain in the other man. More specifically, he noted the signs of internal conflict. That only left the question of what Sam was fighting with himself about, but that wasn’t hard to guess either. 

“I know you have no reason to trust me,” he began slowly, working around his point. “But I don’t mind listening, and you don’t have to worry about burdening me with whatever it is that you can’t stop thinking about.” He kept his tone reasonable, and tried to ignore how much he hoped it worked.

Sam looked at him sharply, but said nothing, so he tried again. “Look, I know your brother’s been through some kind of trauma and that you worry about this all being too much of a reminder for him.” That got him another look, this one more intense, and an eyebrow raised in question. Shrugging, Will shook his head. “He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re wondering. I read people, pay attention, that’s all.” It didn’t sit well that he had to skirt around his other source of information, but Sam was in no shape to talk about prophetic dreams, no matter who starred in them. Giving himself a mental shake, Will refocused on what was in front of him. “I know a little bit about the kinds of things you used to do,” he said, carefully casual, hoping the assumption would be that Magnus had told him. “I get that you’re not the most talkative. I got that much from the sessions you’ve allowed us to have.” Tipping back in his chair, Will met Sam’s eyes, letting him see the sympathy, the sincerity and how much he really did want to understand. “All I’m saying is, whatever you might need to get off your chest, I’m willing to listen.”

And still there was no answer. 

They sat in silence that felt comfortable, drinking coffee for a long few moments. Swallowing his disappointment, Will shifted his weight to stand. The least he could do was not push, or pressure. As Will was about to force himself out of the room, Sam spoke. “I just don’t know what’s real anymore,” he admitted, voice gone rough and raw with a depth of pain that was hard to listen to. “I heard so many lies, saw so many horrible things that it just seems like none of this is real. I hear everyone telling me that the ordeal is over,” he continued with a rising bitterness. “But it’s not over. All of it, every obscenity, it’s still here,” he explained, tapping a finger to his forehead. “I can’t break out of it, and I don’t even know if all of it was real.”

“Well, without knowing the details, I would say that if you have to carry the memories, that’s real enough. Like it or not, you’re stuck with it now.” Will moved back to his chair and sat down, tilting his head as he considered the problem.

“Damn right,” Sam agreed, with a bitter laugh. He shifted the subject then, and they talked about the generic details of trauma recovery for a bit, but when Will went back to bed, it was with the sense that both of them might actually be able to sleep. 

That night’s discussion set the pattern for the next few days. Each time Will had a nightmare, he would get up, and go for a walk, each time finding Sam. Sometimes they only talked for a few minutes, more about generalities than anything else. Other times he did more listening than talking, as Sam spoke of things that worried him, or details that he wished he could forget. Though he used some of his psychiatric skills, it was less about that than simply being present, and hearing what Sam needed to say. Sometimes they simply sat together and didn’t say much at all. That was alright though, Will remembered enough times of his own that he would have given anything not to be alone. Spending time with Sam wasn’t exactly a hardship.

The kiss was more accidental than anything. On his way to seat himself at the kitchen table again, Will had tripped and nearly gone sprawling. Only Sam’s quick reflexes had saved him from a painful impact with the cold tile floor. Later he could never say which one of them had moved first, and when their lips met, it hadn’t mattered. Even a truly excellent kiss couldn’t turn off his mind though, and he drew back. “This isn’t a good idea while I’m still involved in your treatment,” he murmured, hating the fact that he had to say it, even if it was true. “And there are a few other things you should know about me before you decide we should be doing this,” he admitted.

For the first time since he woke up in the infirmary, Sam full-on grinned, and Will felt an answering grin spread across his face. At least he didn’t have to worry that he was gonna freak out. 

“Yeah, I’m sure there is,” Sam agreed, without even trying to move. “But what about after I’m done treatment? I’ll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours,” he offered.

Knowing the effort it took for Sam to say that, there was really only one answer he could make. “Deal,” he agreed, giving into the impulse and leaning down for one more kiss.

It hadn’t been as simple as that. It took time for Sam to reach a point where he wanted to talk about more than his most recent trauma. The day that happened, Will knew he needed to come clean about how he knew when Sam had bad nights. He’d been chalking it up to good intuition or unrelated nightly wanderings. Now that Sam had progressed a bit in his recovery, he deserved to know the truth. 

This time they decided their usual territory wouldn’t work. The kitchen tended to be a busy place during the day, and this was one conversation they didn’t need an audience for. The weather was decent and the out-of-the-way garden might have been overgrown but it was deserted, except for a lone figure already seated on the far bench.

“Thanks for coming to sit with me,” Sam told him, though his voice was so low it barely carried.

“No problem,” Will replied. “I know how it gets when the walls start feeling like they are closing in.” The Sanctuary was more of a home to him than anywhere else he’d ever lived and he was so comfortable there that sometimes it surprised him, but that didn’t mean there weren’t days he felt like he had to get out or he would go crazy. Shaking his head, he reminded himself they weren’t out here to discuss the intricacies of cabin fever. 

“Look, I meant what I said before, I am always willing to listen to anything you need to tell me. But I need to tell you something this time. There’s something you don’t know about me, and it might change your mind about confiding in me, in my capacity as a psychiatrist.” Determined as he was to be honest, he felt his body start to tremble. 

“I don’t see that happening, man,” Sam told him, still quiet, though his eyes showed curiosity. “Besides, I don’t talk to you because you’re a shrink. I talk to you because we’re friends. Whatever else we might be feeling our way to, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

“We are, yeah,” Will agreed, feeling a renewed surge of guilt. “That’s kind of the problem. Whatever we’re working our way towards,” he paused and carefully avoided the word relationship. “I don’t want to keep being less than honest with you.”

“Less than honest? Okay…about what?” Sam paused, and stared back rather intently. “Wait, is this where you tell me that you’re actually an abnormal?”

That startled a laugh from Will. “No,” Will answered, “I’m human, at least as far as I know.” Taking a deep breath, he began his explanation. “The thing is, I’m as human as the next guy, but I’m also different. I have these dreams.” Somehow saying it out loud seemed like it made it bigger and scarier, but he’d come too far to stop now. “I dream about things that come true sometimes, and lately, I’ve been dreaming about you. I haven’t got a clue why, but I’m pretty sure I’m sharing your nightmares. Not all of them, but a lot of them.” Sam opened his mouth to respond, but Will just kept talking. If he didn’t get it all out now, who knows how long it would take him to get up his nerve. “And the thing is, I know some of your background Sam that you didn’t tell me. Before your brother showed up here, I was dreaming about you, both of you.” Looking at his hands, clenched tightly in his lap, Will couldn’t make himself look up. He didn’t want to see the anger, or the judgment, even if he knew he deserved it.

He heard a quiet chuckle in response. “Well, of all the things I was picturing you confessing, I gotta tell ya, man, that didn’t even make the list.” Shifting slightly closer on the bench, Sam waited for a moment, obviously collecting his thoughts. “Look, I’m not thrilled about having my privacy invaded, but if it’s going to happen, I’d rather it be you than anyone else, Will. Besides, a lot of what happened to me is so hard to talk about, maybe this is just someone’s way of making it easier for me.” 

The rather intense sincerity made his stomach jump, but the lack of judgment had Will looking up at last. “Wait, you’re not mad?” Oh, that was great, he sounded like a scared kid. But like it or not, the answer mattered. 

Shaking his head, Sam smiled at him crookedly, showing his dimple for a moment. “Nah. I know what it’s like to have things like that happen that you don’t ask for and can’t control. And I know the last thing you need is to have someone look at you like you’re a freak just because dying changed you. And hell, who am I to judge? Most people can’t say they’ve been to hell and back and mean it literally. I can, and there isn’t anything that is going to change that. If you can live with that, then I can live with a little clairvoyance, no matter where you get it from.”

Closing the distance between them, Will paused just before touching his lips to Sam’s. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” He might have said more, but the kiss went from light to intense quickly enough to focus all his attention on the heat between them. They could talk later.

***

Depending on your point of view, it was either very late, or very early. Unable to fall asleep after her latest nightmare, Ashley stared at the ceiling and tried to concentrate on her breathing. The remnants of nausea and the shakes would pass, she knew. As she lay there, the sound of her mother’s footstep reached her ears. Nocturnal wanderings of the maternal variety were nothing new. Ashley heard her at least once most nights. This time, instead of leaving her alone to her coffee or snack, Dean’s words about holding on to anger sounded in her ears, and she threw back her covers and rummaged around for the sleep pants on the floor near the bed.

When she reached the kitchen, she almost turned and left without making her presence known, but her pride wouldn’t let her. When she got a good look at the shadows under her mother’s eyes, neither would her conscience. There might not be many good things in her slowly returning memories, but the good that was there was centered on the woman who was seated at the long table tucked into the dining nook. Taking a deep breath, she paced over to the table and seated herself. “Tough night?” she asked.

“Ashley, I’m so glad to see you,” Helen murmured. Her expression lightened, followed by a wide smile. Then, as she noticed the signs of a recent nightmare, her smile faded. “I would guess I’m not the only one having a difficult evening.” Knowing there was no point in pushing her daughter for information she settled back and waited.  
When Ashley was a little girl, and had a nightmare, they would go down to the kitchen and have hot cocoa and cookies and talk through whatever had upset her. Fleetingly, as she settled at the bench seat of the table, Helen wished it would be so easy to fix what was wrong now. It seemed wrong somehow that she was so happy when her child was so sad. That guilt had driven her out of bed, though she knew it was irrational. It was a jarring shock to see Ashley looking at her the same way she would look at any acquaintance. With a carefully measured breath inward, she set that aside. This wasn’t the time to be dwelling on her own problems. However it had happened, Ashley was back, and needed her help, whether she wanted it or not. “You can tell me about it, if you want,” she began, with only the slightest of hesitations.  
Tilting her head to the side in a way that meant she was thinking something through, Ashley laughed quietly, but there was no humor in the sound. “Believe me, you do not want to hear about the things I dream about now.” She stopped, then started to speak, only to stop again, and when she looked up, Magnus caught the sheen of tears in her eyes, even in the low light of the kitchen.  
“If you need to talk about it, I most certainly do want to hear it,” she contradicted, keeping her tone neutral.  
The only sound was the rustling of fabric before Ashley shook her head, her hair brushing against her shoulders. “I don’t want to talk about it, at least not yet. I know you said you don’t want to tell me too much about my life now, that it will be better if I remember on my own. But what about when I was little? Can you tell me about then?” The plea was soft, barely above a whisper, but there was no mistaking how difficult it had been to ask.  
“Alright. I don’t see any harm in a bit of reminiscing,” Helen answered, with only a slight pause while the doctor in her lost the argument to the mother. She started with the story of Ashley’s first day at school, and that led naturally into others. Shaking her head a little bit, she smiled across the table. “You were a handful, even at that age,” Helen concluded. “As much as I loved your independent streak, I must confess, I liked it when you would bring me your problems too. We used to end up right here when we discussed them,” she added.  
“Cocoa,” Ashley said suddenly, with a strange far-away look in her eyes. Not quite certain what the comment related to, Helen looked over, intending to ask if she should make some, but Ashley was still talking. “When I was upset, we’d sit in here and you’d make me cocoa, because you said I was too young to be drinking tea, even though I wanted to drink what you were drinking.”  
Swallowing against the tears that threatened, Helen could only nod. “I did, yes,” she agreed. Though she tried for matter of fact, she didn’t quite make it. “You remember.” It wasn’t a question, but the answering nod made her feel like a weight had come off that she hadn’t known was quite so heavy.  
For the first time since they sat down, Ashley smiled, and nodded again. “I guess I do, at least a little bit. A lot of what I remember is so dark, so violent. It’s good to know it wasn’t all like that. I keep feeling like I owe you an apology, for hurting you, for leaving you, for not remembering. I don’t know.” Running her hand through her hair, she looked down at the table top. Just when she thought she understood all the things she felt guilty about, new ones would pop out of nowhere.  
Rather than upsetting her more, this revelation made Helen feel like she was back on ground she could cope with. “Ashley, look at me,” she directed. Once they were looking at each other again, she continued. “None of what happened to you was your fault. I can’t lie to you and tell you that losing you didn’t hurt me. Of course it did. But the pain I went through is not your responsibility. You aren’t gone. You’re right here with me. I will never stop being grateful for that, no matter what you end up able to remember. If you can’t believe anything else, at least believe that, alright? The rest will come.” Though she seemed uncertain, Ashley eventually nodded in agreement. After such an intense moment, it was no surprise that the blonde claimed fatigue and left only a little bit later. That was alright though because Helen needed a chance to get herself back under control anyway.  
It was such a stupid little thing. Hearing her daughter remember the cocoa had almost managed to reduce her to tears. Imagine, the great Helen Magnus reduced to crying over a hot beverage. Laughing a little at herself, she walked out of the kitchen toward her room. It didn’t matter if she was upset, there was no one there to see it. Steps from her room, the awareness prickled at the back of her neck and she sighed. “John, it’s late. I need to sleep.” She simply didn’t have the energy to control herself around him tonight. One emotionally wrenching scene was enough for a night.  
“I know,” John told her, the measured acknowledgement at odds with the pain she could sense he was controlling. Separate from all their other issues, she knew he felt things more deeply than he would ever admit. Losing Ashley had destroyed him in some fundamental way, that even living with the Ripper within him hadn’t managed to damage. Knowing that truth didn’t make spending time with him a good idea though.  
“Are you alright?” she asked. Are you yourself, under control, she meant. But of course, he knew that.  
“For the moment,” was the answer, as he pushed away from where he’d been standing against the wall. “I know I should go. I know I really have no right to ask you about her, even now. Maybe especially not now,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting to know.” He paused, while she opened her door, and there was a flash of surprise in his eyes when she opened it wide enough to be a clear invitation.  
Once they were in her sitting room, she put extra care into closing the door. “She’s as well as can be expected,” Helen told him, knowing that would be his first question. Though a part of her wanted to pace, she dropped into a chair, kicking off her shoes with a sigh. Even with her eyes shut, she knew he moved behind her, but she also trusted that he would leave before he would allow his darker side to hurt her. The sense of him so close, the smell of him… She was too tired to have any defense at all when the longing surged up as it always did. Somehow the pain had gotten sharper since they’d discovered the truth behind his darker side. It had never been something he chose, and the fact that he could control it at all was miraculous. It made her feel better knowing he hadn’t chosen darkness over her all those years ago. It also didn’t erase the guilt of knowing he was only playing host to the monster because of her. He’d never have accepted it back if it wasn’t to save her. Oh he’d told her otherwise, but she wasn’t naive enough to believe him.  
Moving slowly so she could tell him to back off, John came closer, laying his hands on her shoulders and rubbing at the knots he’d known he would find. The pain of touching her, while knowing he couldn’t have her had become familiar. It didn’t matter if it hurt him. Even miracles took their toll. There were shadows beneath her eyes and she was so tense a headache was inevitable. He understood. Having Ashley back was wonderful. Having her not know them was a fresh layer of hurt, topping a never-ending list. If she did remember her life, she would also remember all the things the Cabal made her do. Nothing he could say that would make it better. He stayed silent, continuing his massage. When he felt the shoulders beneath his hands begin to shake, he knew she was crying. He allowed himself the pleasure of urging her to turn around, rearranging them so she was curled up against him. Feeling the tears begin to soak his shirt, he shifted until he was a bit more comfortable. For once, his dark companion seemed willing to be quiet, so he would hold her as long as was necessary.  
He was one of the few who understood how hard it was for Helen to let go of the strict control she imposed on her emotions. Maybe he couldn’t make any of it easier, but at the very least, she would know she wasn’t alone. That would have to be enough.

***

Old City Sanctuary  
Library  
9:05 am

There were a few more people at the table than she was used to, but Helen was smiling as she waited for everyone to take their places. It was still a joy to look down and see Ashley back with them. Granted, her memory was still a problem, and learning to control the powers the Cabal had forced on her was not exactly an easy task. Stacked up against her being here at all, those hardly seemed like obstacles. 

Henry wandered in, talking to Willow on his bluetooth. That was a romance she hadn’t seen coming but was definitely pleased about. It had seemed more likely that Dean and Kate might get together but judging by the casual cuff Kate gave Dean on her way to grab some coffee, they had developed a kind of sibling dynamic. As she watched, Ashley joined the fun, catching his other side. The women laughed at his angry look.

Looking at the scene, she had to ignore a stab of pain. How much she wished that John had been able to stay longer. But she shouldn’t complain because she didn’t have everything. John would come if and when he could, whenever he could control the monster inside him. If she juggled her duties well enough, perhaps she would be able to look into ways to help him. Picking up her tablet, she keyed in a note to herself about it. Glancing at her watch, she was about to get things started when the tray of pasties on the sideboard caught her eye. She’d meant to have breakfast but lost the time to eat when her conference call had gone over. Instead of being annoyed though, even that was so normal it made her smile.

Sam came in, followed closely by Will. That was another relationship she hadn’t seen coming, but it seemed to be good for both of them. They were being terribly discreet about it, but certain signals were obvious no matter how much effort went into trying to hide them. Since they didn’t want anyone to know, she was keeping quiet about it. 

Odds were there would be rather amusing fireworks when Dean found out, given how protective he was of his brother. They were all adults, so it was their business. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t enjoy the show, but that was hardly the point. What was important was that they were all moving on, settling back into life. Whatever came next they would all deal with it. Speaking of, she had business that needed dealing with.

“Good morning, everyone,” she announced, just loud enough to get their attention. “I’m so glad you could all join us on this lovely morning. I don’t have a great deal of news to present, but I wanted to check in with everybody.” It only took a moment to look around the table, but no one spoke up, so she continued. “I’m sure you all understand that we need to be on our guard against whatever fallout there is from our recent activities.” There were nods all around. 

“To that end, I should let you know that I’ve given Sam and Dean clearance as expert consultants. They’ve agreed to stick around to see if they can help us anticipate what the next moves are going to be,” Helen explained. “Officially, their clearance is only for this branch, but unofficially, they’re to be shown anything they want to know,” she added, in case anyone was unclear. No one argued. Instead, Henry laughed and shoved against Will’s shoulder. “Pay up, dude. I told you,” he exclaimed in obvious satisfaction. Despite her usual standard of professionalism, Helen laughed before she could hold it back. Yes, they could definitely deal with whatever came next.

***fin***  
****for now****


End file.
